Fate Recondite
by Ravoleck
Summary: Shirou sacrificed himself to take Gilgamesh with him, dropping both of them into the Holy Grail. So he should be dead, right? Then why does he have so many questions? Questions such as why is he still alive? Why is the moon shattered? What is a faunus?
1. Ingress

**RWBY is property of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type-Moon, neither of which I am affiliated with besides being a massive fan. I do not profit off of writing or publishing this. **

**I know a lot of you are watching Unlimited Blade Works the anime and have never read the visual novel. Unless you like spoilers, get out. There are massive spoilers in this and unless you like having a really good story spoiled for you, you should either wait until the series is finished or read the visual novel before moving onto this. Seriously, the anime misses a lot of stuff and I may occasionally reference stuff that isn't in there but is in the novel. If you do, get ready to cry during the Heaven's Feel route. Anyway, if you're still here. Enjoy my return to creative writing.**

The chains of Enkidu wrapped around his arm, Shirou was faced with one of the most difficult decisions he would ever make. Should he struggle against their pull, anchoring himself and allowing Gilgamesh to pull himself back into this world? Or should he let himself go, falling into the seemingly endless abyss and taking the King of Heroes with him, ensuring that he could never again threaten this world. If he did, he knew that his life would end, leaving behind his loved ones aside from Saber who had already moved on. Fuji-nee and Sakura both would be saddened by his passing, and Rin... Well, it was hard to tell with Tohsaka just what exactly she thought of anybody, but he had shared those moments with her, the two of them moaning the other's name and embracing each other. He liked to think that she would at least think somewhat fondly of him.

"That stupid grail! Why can't it just realize that it can't use me as its core?" The king roared. He pulled heavily with his remaining arm and looped another length of chain around his wrist as he slowly hauled himself out of the void. His rage was palpable, a wild and furious look on his face as his eyes settled on the red haired faker who dared oppose him and shatter some of his treasures.

Shirou had to make a decision. He knew that there was really no such thing as a deus ex machina, and that even if there was, it had already occurred, sucking away Gilgamesh from Unlimited Blade Works into a world devoid of anything. Even then, he had held against and defied the will of the world, breaching his way back into this one. No, if anything was going to save the world, it would have to be Shirou. At least this way, Shirou would achieve his dream.

He would become a true hero.

Shirou let go and felt the mighty pull of the chains that once imprisoned Heaven's Bull take him. The last thing he saw as he dropped into the black hole was the look of astonishment and despair on Gilgamesh's face as he too fell. He couldn't help but feel some small amount of satisfaction at that.

The courtyard, now empty, fell silent as the tear in the fabric of reality closed, a wrong righted by Gaia, the world itself. A man in a red coat stood hidden some ways away, a sad smile on his face and a mundane dagger on the floor next to him. He knew now that he would never be free. He had, after all, encouraged the boy to be a hero and said that he was the only one who could fight the King of Heroes and win. He had sent the boy to his death, had killed him. Though that was not his intent, it had been his original plan.

And yet Counter Guardian Emiya was still here.

He stood up from where he kneeled, struggling to gather the strength needed to do so. He had spent almost every bit of himself in the past couple of days. Heavy use of Gradiation Air to defend his former master from the grail and maintaining his presence in this world was taxing on what little prana he had left now that he had no master. Taking one last look at the scene before him, he sighed and turned, moving to meet his former master one last time. He would need his strength to tell her what had happened and what had been sacrificed for it.

Tohsaka had always been frightening when he pulled one of his bone-headed antics.

_**Die.**_

Shirou fell for what seemed an eternity. He had at first fell with Gilgamesh for a time, but after some time, the two had been separated. Shirou was okay with this as, though he could not hear it in this world where noise was nothing, Gilgamesh had been screaming and raging at him the entire time. What Shirou was not okay with was the maddening weight of the evils of all mankind.

_**Die Rape Murder Despair Suffer**_

Noise and light were non-existent in this world. Even when Gilgamesh had been nearby, he could not see the blonde haired king, merely feeling the presence of his mind and the entirety of his hatred directed at him. There was only feeling and Shirou was drowning in it. His mind was swimming sea of melancholy and rage and apathy. His sense of identity had never always been strong, his birth name having been consumed by the Fuyuki Fire long ago, but he could feel what little he had being smothered. A chorus of madness surrounded him, singing a dirge of despair and beckoning him to join in. He felt like he was dying again.

_**Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die Die**_

He felt like he was in the fire again.

_**Hope**_

A sudden sense of clarity blew through him. For the first time since he had fallen in, he could see something in the darkness. A pair of strikingly red eyes sat squarely on an alabaster face framed by locks of snow-driven hair. They looked into his soul and found it horribly distorted. A wave of emotion, of pity and anguish, washed over those eyes and crashed onto him. They could not fix him, but that was okay, he told them. He did not want to be fixed, that if he were fixed, then everything he had suffered was a lie, that it wouldn't be fair to those that had suffered more than he had to make light of their troubles. Those eyes stared at him for a good long time at that and slowly determination filled them.

In that world filled with all the evils of mankind, a white radiant light emanated from those eyes. As the light slowly filled all his vision, Shirou fell continued to fall. However, he noticed something had changed. Where before there was only darkness and an overbearing weight on his soul, now there was stars and air rushing through his air. He turned slowly and saw that there trees. He turned more and saw that there was the ground rushing up to meet hi-

There is a certain irony, Shirou decided, in this situation. He had died to the Holy Grail only to wake up in a bed without knowing where he was. Shirou took a few moments to observe his surroundings. It was daytime, with light filtering in through the window and falling on his bed. His bed had rails lining the sides of them, though they weren't keeping him prisoner. On one side of the rails, a series of buttons lay within reach. A grey plastic chair sat in the corner of the room. There was various pieces of equipment near him, with the sound of soft beeps matching in time to a green line spiking on one screen. A heart monitor. He was in a hospital. The sounds of people walking past his oak door and a voice lined with static calling for a doctor to an operating bay confirmed that thought.

Shirou pushed himself up to a sitting position, feeling a stiffness throughout all of his body. He listened to the steady beeping of the heart monitor next to him and took comfort in the fact that he was still alive. With a thought, he turned his attention inwards towards himself. His magic circuits were not damaged by what he had gone through and his injuries from his battle with Gilgamesh had healed completely. He was not surprised from this; he had, after all, survived being stabbed in the heart before. Satisfied with his body's current status, he found and pressed the call sign on his bed.

A few seconds passed and Shirou heard a knock at the opening door. "Good afternoon, sir. How are you feeling?" Closing the door behind him, the man in the long white coat stood with a confidence that only came with long practice in his profession. Though his body language presented a comforting air, his soft blue eyes scanned Shirou, seeking any ailment that he might be suffering.

"I feel okay," Shirou replied easily. It was the truth. The pains that came with the knowledge that he had pushed himself to the absolute limits and beyond in his fight were already fading. When he left this place, he would have to check with Tohsaka why that was. He had healed extraordinarily quickly during the war and it served him well, but he would need to know if it could compromise the secret of magic if he was injured in public. Already, he was racing to find possible covers if he had healed too quickly to be possible. It all depended on how long he had been asleep.

"Well, that's good to hear," the doctor replied. "You've been in here overnight. Somebody found you after you decided to put a good sized dent in the earth." The man chuckled. "I'm surprised you're even awake right now, let alone feeling well."

The hammer in the back of his head clicked back, waiting for him to pull the mental trigger. His circuits thrummed with power. He traced several swords in Unlimited Blade Works, ready to call them to this world to kill the man if he was going to reveal him and his secret. All of them were silent killers and weak enough that no one would hear a thing if he shot them as arrows and swift enough to wield them as swords. He didn't want to kill the man, but Tohsaka and his father had instilled into him the rules of magecraft. The second rule was that nobody who wasn't a magus could learn of magic. Even family members who didn't inherit their family's crest knew nothing of the craft.

The man kept his eyes on one of the pages of a clipboard he had carried in as he kept chuckling. "I don't know what you crazy huntsmen do to train, but if you're not careful, your aura isn't going to save you again." The statement hung in the air, joined by the intent to kill. The man would never know how lucky he was, unaware of the deadly air as Shirou digested what he said.

"Y-yes, of course. I'll definitely be sure to be more careful in the future." Shirou grasped onto that excuse like a lifeline. The last thing he wanted was to spill innocent blood, and the doctor had provided him the perfect out. He let the hammer slip back into rest and let Gaia dispel what he had traced in his mind. "Though if I may ask, where am I? This doesn't look like Fuyuki General."

The doctor, Merrywether as the blue lining on his breast read, tilted his head to the side as he regarded Shirou. "Is that in Vacuo? I'm afraid I'm not familiar with any hospitals outside of Vale."

A cold spike of panic lanced through him and the hammer cocked back again. He had never heard of either of those places and they were certainly not Japanese names. Carefully, he dodged the question. "So, I'm in... Vale then." Merrywether smiled warmly at him.

"Yes, you're in the First Clinic of Vale. We found you just near the edge of the Emerald Forest. Apparently," Merrywether took a second to flip through his clipboard before seemingly finding what he was looking for on the last page, "You were found by a team from Beacon Academy before they brought you here."

"Ah, that makes sense." Though he maintained a thoughtful expression outwardly, Shirou was panicking on the inside. Those sounded like English names, which meant he was far away from home.

The doctor rifled through the pages on the board for a second before tucking it under his arm. "Well, now that you're awake, how about we sort some things out." Though the doctor had sounded cheerful when he said that, Shirou remained cautious. There could be many different meanings to that phrase, and many of the ones that came to his mind ultimately resulted in somebody having a plethora of swords put into them. Merrywether, having seemed oblivious, caught onto Shirou's nervousness right away. "Oh don't worry. We don't charge huntsmen for our services here, given what you do for humanity, so you don't need to worry about insurance if you don't have it."

Again, the kindly middle-aged man with the slowly graying hair gave Shirou the perfect out. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm not exactly familiar with your country's hospital system, so I wasn't sure..." Shirou petered out, his nerves from this situation slowly choking what words dared come to mind. Just in case he needed it, he kept the hammer cocked as Merrywether handed him the clip board with what looked like a form and a pen. Shirou took both in hand and brought the pen to paper before stopping suddenly, nearly dropping both onto the bed.

Shirou couldn't read what was on the page.

It wasn't Japanese, and though Fuji-nee wasn't the best teacher, she still taught English well enough that he could make out basic sentences. What was on the page was neither of those languages, or any other script he had looked at during his magus studies in his father's library. He handed the clipboard back to the puzzled doctor. "Sorry. My eyes are still blurry from waking up."

The doctor nodded in understanding. "Very well. How about you dictate and I'll fill it out for you?" He pulled the small uncomfortable looking chair from the corner of the room and sat down. "What's your name then?"

"Emiya Shirou." The words came easily enough. Perhaps his latest death hadn't been nearly as debilitating as his first one if he was able to give his full name. The doctor nestled the clipboard in the crook of his crossed leg and quickly scribed the name near the top of the page.

When he finished writing the unusual name, he looked up, eyes bright at finally knowing the boy's name."Alright then, Emiya. How old are you?"

Shirou gave a small laugh at the mistake. "I'm eighteen." He paused for a second as the doctor turned his attention back towards the board. "And I'm sorry, but my given name is Shirou." The doctor apologized, laughing politely as he did so.

This continued for a while with Shirou struggling to give answers while trying to subtly probe for information on where he was. Some of the questions gave him pause though such as where he was from or if he had any blood relations that were a faunus and if so, what kind. He had never heard of a faunus. He didn't reveal that though. Taking the doctor's reaction of sitting up a little straighter and seeming even cheerier than before as a sign, he assumed it was a bad thing.

Eventually, the questions came to an end and Shirou was assured that he could check out whenever he wanted. After he dressed himself in his sliced up blue shirt and jeans, Shirou left the hospital and hit the streets.

He needed answers.

Several days later, Shirou had his answers. He was indeed far removed from his world. He knew as much when he saw the shattered moon in the night sky. He had fallen to his knees in disbelief, the people passing him by looking at him in slight interest and concern. One woman approached him and asked if he was okay. When he pulled his mind from despairing thoughts and said that he was fine, the woman left, her dog-like tail swinging behind her. The Latin root '_faun_' came to mind then and he was reminded of what Merrywether had asked him, if he was related to any faunus or not. Understanding the question for what it was, he watched the woman walk away to join her friends, all of whom had various animal parts. His mind overburdened with this new information, Shirou left to find a silent place to collect himself and think on a way to return home.

He had, on that first night, settled into the woods to hunt woodland animals and practice his magecraft away from prying eyes. He had some experience in rough camping, his father claiming that he may need it someday. As he made his way deeper into the forest, now knowing them as Emerald Forest, he found that he had ample opportunity to practice his magecraft through practical use. Namely, by defending himself from masked creatures with red eyes and bones sticking from their flesh.

Flesh that reminded him of the black void that was the Holy Grail.

As he cut the last of them down, he watched as the corpses of the creatures flaked away in the cold wind of the night. He got no sleep that night as the beasts kept attacking him as he was about to slumber. His stomach rumbled in protest of being ignored in favor of the constant battles. Finally deciding the woods as a lost cause, he started back towards the city as the sun was rising. As he wandered back into the city, which he learned was named Vale, he discovered the name of these abominations that reminded him of the more savage animals from his world.

The **Grimm**.

That had been nearly a week ago and he was facing more problems than just being in another world. The little money that he had carried into battle was useless here and he was starving. He had started taken to sleeping in the alley ways as he was unable to pay for shelter in a motel or anything of the sort. While far safer than sleeping alone in the Emerald Forest, he still faced the dangers of being mugged by thugs or being jumped by other transients in search of a relatively comfy corner. As a result, Shirou was starting to become more and more desperate as his body started becoming fatigued more easily. He needed to earn money if he wanted to survive.

However, Shirou learned quickly that finding a job was difficult when you didn't have birth records, references, or even the ability to read or write. At first, when he was interviewed by those not terribly put off his torn clothing, they were interested to meet him, but when they learned he had no records or learned of his disability, they politely ended the interview right there. When he started smelling like trash cans, they refused to even meet with him, sometimes downright attacking him for wandering in through the door.

He huddled in the corner of the alley way, shivering as he brought his knees closer to his body. It was evidently in the middle of the Winter season as the wind was bitter and cold as it ripped through the sliced open holes and tears in his clothing. Despite his uncomfortable situation, Shirou chuckled to himself at the thought of meeting Gilgamesh dressed in an oversized Winter coat and thick woolen pants.

A sudden shriek pierced the chill night air. Before it even dissipated, Shirou was on his feet, the hammer slamming down as the trigger was pulled. "Trace On!" Two swords formed in his empty hands, beautiful in their simplicity and duality. One pure white and the other black with a red hexagonal pattern along its surface, Bakuya and Kanshou seemed to sing as Shirou's hands tightened around their handles. The Married Swords bolstered his physical and magical defense stats, inuring him to the cold as he raced through the back alleys towards the sound of fear.

His stomach tightened in protest to this sudden burst of energy, but he ignored the painful sensation of his lungs burning as he pulled up whatever energy he had left. Somebody needed to be saved. Somebody needed him. He would need all the strength he could muster for whatever he may have to do.

A flash of rage burned through his mind, dwarfing whatever his stomach may have felt as he witnessed the sight of a pair of young women surrounded by four vicious looking men, their suits hinting at Shirou that they were part of organized crime. He had seen something similar the few times he visited Fuji-nee's grandfather, the head of the local yakuza, regarding his father's estate. The women were clutching to each other, their clothes disheveled as they tried to shy away from the men. However, the men kept advancing on them until the women's backs were against one of the alley walls.

"Please no! Don't come any closer! Take our money, just don't touch us!" One of the woman, who Shirou recognized as the woman who asked him if he was okay the first day he got here, cried as she threw her purse towards the men. The men didn't say anything as the kept drawing closer. A dark chorus of chuckles was their response as they drew machetes from their sides. Shirou couldn't help but grit his teeth as he watched this from the shadows of the alleyway.

The men finally got within an arms length of the pair. One man, his smirk growing larger and pushing his sunglasses higher up his nose, raised his machete, preparing to strike. His arm jerked down and the women clutched at each other even tighter and screamed. Blood splattered on their faces. However, they realized that it wasn't theirs and checked the other to see if she was harmed. A shout drew their attention, and as both looked towards the men who had approached them after a quiet dinner and movie, they saw something that held their rapt attention.

A warrior god fought before them, his hair the color of blood, wielding a pair of blades, perfectly forged to a quality they knew they would never see again. He attacked the men with a ferocity unmatched by any, placing his back to the couple and keeping the men away from them. When one of the men moved to strike at them, the warrior would place himself in the path of the blow, sacrificing his safety to ensure theirs. Blood dripped down onto the cold paved road under him as continued battling to protect them.

After the last man dropped, Shirou turned back towards the women and they watched him like deer before headlights, unsure of who he was or what he would do. Shirou shifted Bakuya into his left hand next to Kanshou and bent down, picking something up. Slowly righting himself whilst wincing in pain, he moved cautiously towards the two so as not to frighten them. He held out his right hand and the dog faunus stared at it, not comprehending what it was he held towards her at first before realization danced across her eyes.

"Thank you," was all she said as she gently took her purse from Shirou. Tears welled up in her eyes as she looked up at the face of her savior. A soft and warm smile that met his gentle brown eyes was splayed across his face. Again, she found her breath stolen away from her. He turned away and started walking back towards the street, a slight limp in his gait. "Wait!" He paused and turned partially back towards her, his frame shadowed by the streetlights. "Don't you want a reward?" Her raven haired friend turned towards her, shock evident in her eyes as she had heard those words before, usually directed at some man who had done either of them a small favor. Usually she did not mind, but there was something about this man that made her want to get away from him despite his heroics.

Shirou, the her relief, declined. "That's alright. I don't need a reward." Those words stilled the two. Shirou turned back towards the street, swords in both hands, but as he got close to the entrance to alley, he collapsed to his knees. Shocked out of her stupor, the faunus ran to his side, noticing the way he was holding his stomach. Thinking the worst, she pulled his hand away to inspect him, only to hear a large growl emit from his stomach. Shocked, she looked up at Shirou's face, only to see him glancing away at something in the distance, wearing a dark blush and uncomfortable look on his face.

"I think it actually just growled the words 'feed me.'" The red on her savior's face grew deeper. One of the men, still barely hanging onto consciousness, watched the scene and laughed slightly under his breath before passing out.

The two could only watch in astonishment as the boy before them devoured his fifth cheeseburger and greedily gulp at the "Extra-Dextra Size" chocolate milkshake in the small diner. The poor thing looked like he had had a rough time, the way he was shoveling fries into his mouth like hadn't seen a hot meal in days and how he wore those filthy ragged clothes. Finally, after the sixth plate of cheeseburgers and fries, Shirou's hunger was sated. The warm of the diner's atmosphere seeped into his skin, a pleasant change of pace from the biting wind outside. Kanshou and Bakuya sat, leaning against his booth. The sight of the scimitars set some of the staff on edge, but those who served huntsmen weren't bothered by the presence of the blades.

"Thank you for the meal," Shirou said. He clasped his hands together and bowed as low as he could from where he sat across the table from the two.

"No, thank you. If you hadn't come when you did, we... we...," The red haired faunus, who had introduced herself as Sandy and her friend as Veronica, paused for a second, unable to contemplate what would have happened to them. Shaking her head, she looked Shirou in the eye. "This was the least we could do."

Shirou just closed his eyes and smiled sadly. While he would've liked to pay the bill himself, he regretted the fact that he was unable to do so. Instead, he looked back at Sandy. "I disagree, but thank you regardless."

Sandy hummed to herself in thought as she looked him over. Shirou felt a shiver of dread run down his spine for some strange reason. "The next thing we need to do is get you some new clothes." Shirou's instincts yelled at him to run in fear, but his sensibility told them to shut up. It would be incredibly rude to run away from somebody kind enough to pay for the first meal he had in several days.

Shirou meekly held up a hand in slight protest. "Ahhh, no this is fine. Really. You've done more than enough for me. I actually feel bad about making you pay for all this food." Sandy stood up and slammed her hands on the table. A few of the other diners looked towards them and then quickly continued eating. For the first time since he had known, however brief that was, she looked positively angry.

"You saved our lives out there. You're bleeding. You were starving. And you must be freezing in those clothes. I can smell you, and you smell like that Mystrallian restaurant on Fourth except _worse._ You're living on the street," she seethed at the way he refused her help. In the small part of his mind that wasn't frozen in fear, Shirou wondered at how she knew that before remembering that from what he had heard, the faunus had drastically increased senses. From what he remembered, dogs had a sense of smell magnitudes more powerful than a human's back on Earth. "I'm paying for your meal. And then I'm going to pay for your new clothes. And then you're going to take a shower at our place and sleep on a nice warm couch." Veronica's eyes grew progressively wider at each of those statements. After that last one, she stood up from the table.

"Sandy, we need to talk." Grabbing her by the sleeve of her sweater, Veronica tried to drag her friend away. Sandy looked confused at why, but stood her ground. When Veronica pulled harder and threatened to damage her sweater, she relented to Veronica who led her towards the ladies' room, only moving after telling Shirou to stay where he was in a low voice. In the relative privacy of the bathroom, Veronica turned towards her closest friend. "Sandy, I don't want him in our apartment."

Sandy gaped at her friend, not knowing where this was coming from. "Ronny, he saved our lives. And more."

Veronica's eyes narrowed and she leaned forward slightly. "I don't care, Sandy. He's dangerous. I'm fine with paying for his food and some new clothes, but I put my foot down at letting him anywhere near we sleep."

She couldn't believe this was coming from her friend. Sandy moved over towards the sinks and slowly counted. When she had calmed down enough for her breathing to not be audible, she faced Veronica. "One night. That's all. One night to let him get himself cleaned up and help find him somewhere else to stay." She was surprised at the look of abject terror and disbelief on Veronica's face.

"Sandy, you never said anything about finding him someplace to live." Surprise turned to anger and Sandy strongly considered slapping her best friend for the first time ever. As she was about to retort, they both paused at the sound of sudden running water and a slight cough.

Embarrassed at being overhear, Sandy moved towards the door. "Let's continue this outside." As she moved back towards the table however, she found that their savior had left. A plate with a few fries and a piece of paper with a crude depiction of someone bowing with hands together. "That jerk," Sandy softly murmured to herself, pretending not to see the look of palpable relief on her friends face.

Shirou had taken their brief leave as an opportunity to leave himself. Remembering that nobody would be able to read what he wrote, he asked one of the waitresses for a piece of paper and a pen. Quickly sketching out a stick figure asking for apology, he readied himself to set off into the cold night air. As he neared the restaurant's door, he saw several thick jackets on the coat rack next to it and looked longingly at them for a second before continuing out.

His clothes had already been in tatters before the fight; now they were looking like they might fall off of him. Still, he didn't regret leaving. A hero never asked for a reward. Doing so would defeat the whole point of it. He didn't want to help people because of what he gain from it; he did it because he wanted to know what his father felt when he rescued him. He wanted to know what it was like to smile like that.

"That was a very noble thing you did." A voice rang out. He cursed at himself for being caught unaware despite knowing that his mind was frazzled from the lack of proper sleep. He was growing even more tired from constantly using his prana to maintain his projections as he couldn't simply let Gaia dispel the Married Swords in public, however few people there were at this time of night. It seemed Vale was a metropolis like Tokyo or New York City was for his world. Allowing his projections to fade would reveal magecraft to the people around him. He didn't want to have to enforce the second rule.

Shirou shook his head. His exhaustion was letting his thoughts digress too much. His focus sharpened, he brought his attention to a middle-aged man dressed in green leaning on a cane, tiny spectacles across the bridge of his nose. A small smile adorned his face, but his eyes told a different story. Those hawk-like eyes were akin to Archer's, though his held no malevolence like the Servant's did at first. Those eyes studied him, searched him for something, judging him for what he was worth. A long pause held between the two of them as Shirou's grip around his blades tightened slightly.

Finally, the man's eyes joined his mouth in that affable grin. The air, which had seemed to suffocate Shirou, lifted all at once. "I'm sure those ladies will be quite upset that you left."

Shirou lessened his hold on Kanshou and Bakuya. Shaking his head, he finally replied to the unknown man. "Maybe, but if I had stayed, I would have felt like I had been taking advantage of their kindness." The man seemed to consider that before slowly closing the distance between the two. Shirou took note of how he wasn't dependent on his cane to walk and how he carried himself.

This man was just as dangerous as any Servant.

"If it was so freely offered, is it really taking advantage of them?" The appraisal returned to his eyes for a second, waiting for the boy's reasoning.

Shirou paused in thought for a moment to work out how he was going to phrase his response. His time as Tohsaka's student had taught him that a thoughtlessly worded reply could have massive consequences. One such consequence was having an illness shot at you with the force of a bullet behind it. "Yes. Yes, it would have. If I had stayed, then it would go against everything I've worked for." The man watched him for several seconds.

"Where are you staying?" The change in topic was so abrupt that it threw Shirou off for a second before replying that he was staying in the downtown area. "Do you know who I am?" Shirou was rapidly becoming confused by this constantly evolving conversation, compounding the headache that was starting to form from exhaustion. Answering in the negative, he waited for the man to pause for a second before continuing. "I am Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy."

A flash of recognition danced in Shirou's eyes. "Oh, I suppose I should thank you then. After all, it was one of your teams that found me in the forest before those monsters did."

"Indeed." Ozpin leaned forward on his cane. "We were quite surprised to find someone not of our own out there by themselves." Shirou kept quiet at that, unsure of how to respond. The streets were starting to fully empty for the night. The moon, usually presenting its shattered visage, was entirely full on this night. If he didn't know otherwise, he would have assumed it was his worlds. "Tell me, would you be interested in a spot at my school?"

Shirou wasn't totally surprised by that. He gathered that the man had been watching him for a while since he had saved Sandy and Veronica and that he trained people to be able to slay monsters. If he was honest with himself, he was actually excited by the chance to join the ranks of the huntsmen. His chances of returning home seemed increasingly slim the longer he stayed out here. Not to mention, he could finally reach his goal of becoming a hero like his father always wanted to be. However, there was a problem.

Shirou rubbed the back of his head, careful not to cut himself with Kanshou. "I can't afford any tuition fees your school might have," he mumbled the words. Back in his world, he had been able to live comfortably due to his inheritance, and to suddenly be so destitute was humbling and shaming. If he ever returned home, he was going to start also volunteering at homeless shelters in addition to saving people.

Ozpin's smile grew slightly bigger and walked to Shirou's side. Putting his arm lightly around the boy, he led the two of them Westwards. "Unfortunately, the school term has already started and teams are formed around a level of trust and communication formed through..." Ozpin paused here, as though stumbling around a series of words before continuing unabated, "certain means. To introduce you now to a fully formed team, which are all that we have at the moment as we take safety at Beacon very seriously, would be detrimental to their overall performance."

The way he had phrased how teams formed unsettled Shirou slightly. Instead of addressing that though, he asked the blaringly obvious, "So how would I be attending your school?"

A mysterious smile danced on Ozpin's lips. "You would be a part of our staff."

Shirou was only slightly better as a teacher than he was as a student. He had taught Sakura everything she knew about cooking, after all. Shirou recognized that and he also recognized that he was a horrible student as well. When he first actively used his magic circuits, he couldn't feel the left side of his body, almost like he had been having a seizure. "I think I'm a little too young to teach though."

Ozpin continued leading the two through town, though he had since removed his arm from around his companion's shoulder. "That wouldn't be a problem. Our teaching staff is already full and there would be..." Ozpin blanched slightly as though an unpleasant thought occurred to him. "Consequences if I were to bring in any more teachers this late in the year. There would be terrible consequences."

Shirou became a little intimidated. Something that was slightly intimidating to a man who could probably stand toe to toe with a Servant would have been frightening to anyone else. Still, he had to ask. "So, what would I be doing?"

Ozpin kept looking forward, not meeting Shirou's curious gaze. "Well..."

In another world, bored out of his mind and waiting anxiously for the next time Sakura came to visit him, Matou Shinji laid on a hospital bed. He was lazily flipping through the channels when he dropped the remote control and whipped his head to look out the window at the bright sunny day. His parted mouth began twitching upwards for a few seconds before he erupted into gut-wrenching laughter. When the nurse who was fixing the stitches on his stomach asked what so funny, he wheezed, "He's never going to be rid of that stupid nickname."

**Author's Note:**

**I love Fate/Stay Night and I love RWBY. I especially love the idea of Shirou copying all those unique weapons and using them just as well as their respective owners.**

**A few things:**

**1. I'm not trying to make this Shirou any more overpowered than he already is. That being said, wow is UBW Shirou overpowered. He continued to absorb some of Archer's abilities and experience just by **_**being near him**_** when he fought. He did powered up so much at first, he thought Saber was going easy on him the next day. **

**2. I may or may not follow canon RWBY arcs. Oh, you'll definitely at least see references or mentions of them, but I'm tired of always reading a decent fic that shows potential only to do the initiation and then stop because the author got bored or hit a wall. Rest in peace around ninety percent of all the fics I've read and liked.**

**3. No main character OCs. None. You're not getting that here (besides the three that popped up in this chapter). No random faunus people (Not there's anything wrong with that. It's just not my thing.), no people infused with Grimm DNA or what have you, no Gary Stus or Mary Sues or Dr. Suess even. You get canon cast... well as canon as a fusion between FSN and RWBY can be.**


	2. Somnium

**RWBY is property of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type-Moon, neither of which I am affiliated with in a professional capacity. I do not profit off of writing or publishing this.**

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><p>The surprisingly comforting sound of gears grinding against gears filled the ornate office as Ozpin filled out the paperwork necessary for Shirou's new job, the gentle scratch of pen on paper and occasional question between the two disrupting the atmosphere. Finally, Shirou sat back, pretending to scan the papers in his grasp for any inconsistencies that he could correct before he turned them over to the powerful man. Pretending to be satisfied with the unintelligible writing, he leaned over the desk, the papers in his outstretched hand. Ozpin took them and scanned over them himself. As he watched his new boss read, Shirou heard the chiming of a clock tower outside the massive window that overlooked the campus far below. He stood up and walked over, taking in the view of tiny lights far below the office portraying the school in a soft, almost mysterious view at night. What would he find here at this school for warriors? A cough directed his attention back to the man at his back.<p>

Ozpin stood up from his chair, grabbing a mug as he did so. "Well, now that the paperwork is out of the way, why don't you really tell me who you are?" The tone in Ozpin's question was so casual that Shirou's mind briefly stopped working. Had he been figured out so quickly? How? What gave it away? Ozpin raised the mug to his lips, tilting it up to take a swig. Satisfied with his beverage of choice, he continued with, "A huntsmen of your caliber would be well-known in our circle and we have no record of anybody remotely close to matching your appearance or age. Which could mean anything. Anything." Ozpin set the mug aside on his desk and grasped his cane, his knuckles popping slightly as his grip tightened. No longer as hungry or distraught as he was earlier, Shirou took a good look at the oddly shaped walking stick and knew everything about it immediately.

It was a weapon, wielded to its fullest capacity by somebody very powerful. Shirou noted its location in its newly found home that was the Unlimited Blade Works before realizing he had yet to answer the question. He couldn't reveal the secret of magic or else the Clock Tower...

Wait.

The Clock Tower didn't exist here. This wasn't his world. He was free to share the knowledge of the existence of magic. He didn't have to lie and give an answer that would land him in trouble. He wouldn't have to kill-

When did he start thinking about killing people just for knowing about magic? That wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to save people, not kill them. It must be from the influence of Archer's memories and experiences. Archer had to kill people if they had learned of magic; he had done so in order to save the other townspeople. The Clock Tower would have eradicated or wiped the memories of entire communities in order to remove even the slightest chance of a security leak. How many people has he had to kill? How many did he even think about doing so to?

Shirou felt a hand on his shoulder. Looking up from the marble floor, he met cautious brown eyes. He took a moment to reflect and realized that, at some point, he had collapsed onto his knees and began hyperventilating. Shirou took a moment to collect himself and pushed himself off of the floor and stood before Ozpin. He took a deep breath.

"I'm from a world named Earth."

* * *

><p>The clock tower in the distance had chimed several more times while Shirou had talked. During his tale, Ozpin had directed them back to their respective seats. He had not said a word while the spatially displaced boy told him what had led up to this moment in time. Ozpin learned of the existence of magic and just what the red haired boy could do with it. Shirou had found some amusement when he had projected Ozpin's cane; the man had double checked whether or not he was still holding the original. When he discovered that Shirou was as nearly as proficient with it as he was, his eyebrows had shot up almost to his hairline. That was some time ago. Now, the two sat in silence, the lights of the room dimmed down low as their master and his guest sat in contemplation.<p>

It was with great deliberation that Ozpin finally spoke. "I think," he paused for a heartbeat before continuing, "that we should not reveal the full scope of your abilities." He watched Shirou for several seconds, watching for a reaction. Finding none, he continued. "Nor should we reveal the truth about where you are from. There are some people who would seek to abuse your strength." Again, there was no reaction. "Unfortunately, I am one of them." That had a response: a quirk of an eyebrow as Shirou gazed at him curiously, looking at him like he was trying to read his mind. For all Ozpin knew, he was.

"I don't have any malicious intent, I assure you. In fact, I merely wish to resolve a dangerous situation before it devolves into something far more... disastrous." Ozpin lead forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Behind his hands, his face sat in a grim expression, his mouth set in a deep frown and his brow furrowed.

Shirou watched him for another couple seconds, the turning of cogs the only noise in the room.

"What is this situation?" Those brown eyes so much like his steeled and hardened as he asked the question. Ozpin could see that his resolve had been affirmed as he heard of a potential crisis.

"As of late, there has been increased activity of a terrorist group known as the White Fang. We've had reports of a stolen battle suit with their logo causing havoc on a freeway. Many innocents were either injured or kill in car accidents. Luckily, as I understand it, a few of our students were there to minimize the damage." He held Shirou's attention as he called up a few images on a computer screen he had booted up. A video of a large mech with a red wolf's head painted on its arm as it tore through dozens of cars played. "While I appreciate the valor and righteousness displayed by my students, I don't want them to have to fight this battle," Ozpin said quietly. The thought of sending warriors, not even fully grown adults, saddened him greatly.

Ozpin shook those thoughts from his head. "I'd rather the adults handle this so that they may never have to experience the horrors of war. I've seen enough battle and bloodshed in my life that I never want anyone to experience something so terrible." Ozpin stood from his chair and moved towards the window. His gaze was not directed towards the grounds, but towards a building in particular. That building had a few lights on in the windows, but for the most part, their occupants were fast asleep. He watched in the reflection of the glass as Shirou moved to stand beside him. They stayed like that for several minutes, the sound of pinions churning in the background.

"What would you want me to do?" That one sentence, softly asked, brought some relief to Ozpin. It did not stop his guilt though. After all, he was still sending a child out to do battle; the only difference from before was that it wasn't one from this world. Sharing in Shirou's resolve, he strode over to his desk, opened a drawer, and pulled out a set of keys. Taking a moment to find and single out one of them, he said, "While most of these keys are useful in that they open the many doors to classrooms and offices here at Beacon, this one is perhaps the most useful to you at the moment. It is the key to the simulation hall, where students can run training programs designed to challenge them to their limits and beyond."

He watched him take in the information, filing it away for future use. "You can use those halls at night to ensure you're at peak condition. Just make sure nobody sees you do it. In the future, I'd like for you to be my ace in the hole. Almost nobody knows of your existence at the moment, as it gives us the advantage. After all, you technically don't exist." Ozpin paused for a second as something nagged at him from the back of his mind. Ah, yes that was right. "Well, except for those hospital records you left." At Shirou's slightly embarrassed expression, he chuckled quietly before reassuring him that those could easily be taken care.

A yawn from Shirou reminded Ozpin of the time. It was very late and Shirou had not slept in anything remotely resembling a bed in more than a week. Chiding himself internally, Ozpin showed Shirou to his room on campus. After he had said good night to the lad, he walked to his own chambers in the academy. As he strolled, he wondered just what he done and what it would mean for the future.

* * *

><p>He walked the desolate landscape, the heat of the flames all around him scorching his skin. The broken swords in his hand seemed to carry the weight of the worlds itself. Every step was a struggle as he picked his way through the rubble of collapsed buildings and burning bodies. Some of them still struggled, weakly calling out to him. When he heard their pleas, he rushed to help them, but every time he arrived, they had already perished.<p>

He felt almost nothing from their deaths. Long ago, he might have felt more, the person that he had been before he had died to this fire alongside all the others might have wept in sorrow or screamed in rage, but now the only emotion that their deaths invoked was a bitter disappointment in himself and a desperate desire to become stronger. He couldn't regret their death. If he did, it would be like spitting in the face of everything they had suffered.

And so he kept walking, searching for survivors as he did. Just as his father did.

The city changed and warped, and what had once been the scene of a raging fire had now become a massive graveyard. Each grave was marked by a sword, stretching out as far as he could see. No matter how far he walked through here, the horizon was lined with an uncountable number of blades. In this way, they were infinite. They were Unlimited.

This was no place for the living. Only the dead or dying saw this burial site, with he as its caretaker and gravedigger. It was for this reason that he was surprised as he saw a small figure in the distance as it crested over a hill, its frame lithe and tiny. Its back was turned to him, long white locks of hair a curtain, preventing him from making out any other features about her. He called out for them, but the figure ran away from sight over the next hill.

He woke up.

Shirou blinked away the sleep slowly and lay beneath his stiff white bed sheets, lost in thought at what his dream had meant. He had always dreamed of swords and fire as they were as much a part of him as anything else. But that figure. It reminded him of somebody, but he struggled to remember their name or what they might have looked like.

Shirou pushed the thought away for the moment. He had to get ready for work. It was his first day as the new member of the custodial staff at Beacon. He swung his legs out from underneath the covers of his cot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He took a moment to reflect on everything that had happened the previous night as his feet rested on the cool tile floor beneath his bed frame. He remembered saving those two women, how they had fed them, how he skipped out before they could do more, and finally Ozpin, his new boss, approaching him and offering him a job, the subsequent interview, and finally agreeing to help fight another war. He couldn't help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over him as he thought of Rin and how he had gotten involved in the last war he had fought.

He stood up and crossed his small room towards the wardrobe four feet from his bed. His grey uniform, a large white patch with markings that designated him as part of the staff on his back, was pressed and folded neatly. Slipping into his pants and tightening his belt, he considered what Ozpin had asked of him, of keeping his abilities a secret for the moment, of being a secret weapon in a conflict he feared was fast approaching. Shirou could understand the tactic; he had been forced to employ it himself in the Holy Grail War. All the masters had. After all, if such vital information was shared, their enemies could easily come up with a plan to capitalize on any weaknesses or find a way to nullify any advantage they might have had.

As he looked around the small, windowless, and barren room, Shirou pulled on his tool belt, grabbed his mop and bucket, and headed out for the day.

* * *

><p>In another wing of the academy, a captive audience of huntsmen-in-training sat , frantically trying to keep pace with their quick tongued professor as they wrote down the lecture's notes. The professor took a quick drink from his thermos as he seemed to blur around the classroom, resuming his lesson with a manic pace making his words near undecipherable.<p>

"And as they held back the horde of Goliaths, aide came in the form of the great war hero, Charles Arc." He paused for a second, considering something before seeming to realize something. "In fact, I think Mister Arc could tell us something about him. He was, in fact, your grandfather, was he not?" The class collectively paused at that before turning as one to look at the young, unassuming blonde.

Jaune listened to the whispers around him, asking each other if he was really the blood relative of one of the war's greatest heroes and saying that maybe there was actually something to the otherwise unimpressive huntsmen wannabe. Jaune tried to think of anything that he could say, trying to remember any of the times his grandfather had tried to tell him and his sisters some old war stories.

"Sorry Professor-" Jaune tried to explain that he was too young to be able to remember any of his grandpa's stories before he had passed away, but he was interrupted suddenly.

"Doctor! I am a doctor, not some mere professor! How many times do I have to tell you children?" Oobleck cried outraged.

Jaune slumped his head into his arms as he heard some of the whispers dissolve into quiet giggles. Just once, he wanted people to not compare him to his family's legacy. He was tired of all the pressure. If he didn't get it at home where he was surrounded by seven older sisters, he got it in class where he was surrounded by a multitude of huntsmen-in-training who were much more competent than him. At least his partner, Pyrrha, wasn't obsessed with his lineage, though the way she tried to baby him was insufferable at times. It wasn't like he didn't appreciate the help, but the way that she looked at him with pity lately as his progress slowed down made him feel like he wasn't worth the effort.

Before the outraged doctor could continue his rant any further, the bell rang. "Class dismissed. Just remember the assignment on a war hero of your choice is due next class," Oobleck grumbled loud enough for his students to hear. His mutterings as he walked out the door to his next class were inaudible, but those that cared to listen were slightly intimidated.

"Well, at least you're guaranteed an A in this paper, right Jauney?" Nora's voice bubbled from behind him. He turned to face her, only to find her less than an inch away from his face. Surprised, he stumbled backwards. That proved to be a mistake as he tripped over a chair behind him, catching his head on one of the corners of a seat. Taking a moment to stop the world from spinning, Jaune looked up at his most excitable teammate looking sheepish as she helped pick him up from the floor. "Sorry, I didn't think that would happen," she apologize. Brushing some non-existent dust from off his lapel, she asked "Are you ok, Jaune?"

As the two Noras slowly merged together, Jaune replied with a "I'm fine." He reached a hand behind his head to check for a bump, feeling a wetness that wasn't there before. As he and Nora looked at the blood on his fingers, Nora started wailing, yelling "I'm sorry!" over and over again until Jaune stopped her. "Really Nora, I'm fine. Look. My aura already healed it, see?" He parted the hair on the back of his head to show her that the wound had indeed healed. Jaune watched as his teammate switched from crying to smiling brightly.

"So how about it? Your grandpa's Charles Arc, right?" Seeing her leader nod hesitantly, she exclaimed, "Then you've got this assignment in the bag!"

Jaune sighed. "Yeah Nora, I've got it in the bag. Let's just go to our next class, ok?" He moved towards the door, meeting with the other members of his team just outside in the hall. They travelled in comfortable silence towards their next classes with Nora excitably sharing her plans for their next combat class together. "Sorry guys, my next one's this way. I'll see you at lunch, okay?" Their plans made, Jaune raced down the hallway. In his rush, he didn't notice the sign placed to the side, cautioning those who traveled down this path.

He slipped on the wet floor.

When Jaune came to, he found himself looking into a pair of frantic-looking golden brown eyes. His head throbbed when he tried to move, so he opted to lay still and let his aura repair any damage he had incurred. The guy hovering over him looked to be about his age though Jaune was certainly taller by about a good five or so inches. He felt oddly proud of that for some reason. "Are you alright?" He was also very loud. He did not feel proud of that. In fact, he felt annoyed. And a lot of pain. If hard pressed to answer, he would say it was about half and half.

"Please be quiet," Jaune hissed, his eyes screwed shut from anguish. He could feel the skin on the back of his head knit itself back together for the second time that day. Jaune was worried about that. As his mother used to say, things came in threes. He'd spend the rest of his day looking over his shoulder for any sign of danger to his dome. Jaune sighed as he felt the last bits of flesh form in place. He looked back up at the worried boy in front of him.

He was out of uniform, which was dangerous for a student. The rules were very clear that you had to wear your student uniform at all times during the day. Nobody would dare say it aloud, but it was popularly thought that Miss Goodwitch seemed to delight in catching students who broke that rule. However, when she caught two of them breaking that rule at the same time, there was no delight.

There was only fury.

Jaune sat up quickly, catching the other guy off guard. He wondered why that was for a second as he watched him fluster and tried to keep him still. It wasn't like he was still really hurt or anything. Huntsmen brushed off much worse than a possible concussion all the time. Still, he pushed the thought aside as he tried to warn the guy about his imminent doom. After all, even if he didn't know to be quiet near people recovering from blunt force trauma, he had still stayed around to help him.

"Hey man, I don't know if you're skipping a class or not, but you should at least stay in uniform until you get off campus. If Miss Goodwitch catches you like this, she'll have your head." The redhead looked puzzled for a second, before smiling.

"That's alright. I think I'll be fine."

"No, you don't understand. It's like Miss Goodwitch has eyes everywhere. You should change back to..." The words in his mouth died off slowly as he took another good look at the guy. He wasn't wearing a student's uniform because he was wearing a grey uniform that no student wore.

He was wearing a janitor's outfit.

The other teen stood up from where he was kneeling over Jaune and extended a hand down towards where he was propped up against the wall. Jaune took it and was pulled up. He took a moment to wonder if this could have been him if he hadn't been born an Arc. It wasn't like he had any real battle skills to his name besides what he had copied from Pyrrha and the only things he was really good at were housework. He thanked the other guy and was about to ask for his name when the bell rang.

Jaune hopped and turned around in place, looking down the hall towards where his class was. "Shit! I'm late! I've got to leg it!" He took a runner's stance and launched himself towards his class, but as he took off, he felt something pull on the collar of his jacket. He felt the threads under his arms strain against him and his feet slide out from underneath him. They kicked out from his body and caught the edge of a bucket filled grimy water, spilling it all over the floor and soaking into his clothes as he lay on the floor.

"Hey, be careful!" He heard the janitor above him cry out. "You've already slipped and hurt yourself once. Don't do it again! Are you okay?" Affirming the kid that he was fine, Jaune looked down at the floor. Indeed, the floor was still wet, even more so now that the bucket was emptied out onto the floor. He felt guilty about making it so that the poor janitor would have to redo all his work, but he was terrified by the late of being late to his next class. He picked himself up and carefully walked away as fast as he could. As he was about turn the corner, he looked back down the hallway at the janitor who had already begun soaking up all the spilled water.

"Thanks man! Sorry about the bucket!" Jaune called out. Before the wall cut off his line of sight, he saw the redhead wave at him before going back to his mopping. Once he got far enough away, his walk turned into a jog, which turned into a run. It wasn't long before Jaune was sprinting headlong before finally coming to the classroom door. He took a second to compose himself and wipe the sweat from his brow before he opened the door as stealthily.

"Mister Arc, you're late," a sharp haughty tone rang out. That just wasn't fair. He hadn't even opened the door more than two inches yet! He gave up any pretense of stealth and opened the door the rest of the way. When he walked in, the other students were barely keeping from laughing at him; only the threat of punishment keeping them from openly bawling at his appearance and situation. Red-faced and sweaty from his running, the entire back half of Jaune's jacket and pants was soaked. He couldn't begrudge them finding humor in what he looked like. He did look awful.

"Take your seat Mister Arc. We'll talk about why you were late after class while you're doing detention." Ms. Goodwitch was the only one besides him in the room to not find anything funny in the situation.

"Miss Goodwitch, I was-" He tried to defend himself but was cut off.

"Mister Arc." Her voice brooked no argument. Groaning slightly, Jaune trudged to the front of the class, the laughter and whispers growing in volume as he did so until it was almost like everybody talking at once. He sat next to Ruby who looked sympathetic to his plight, looking at him with pitying eyes. She didn't say anything though as Miss Goodwitch continued with the days lesson in adapting to one's environment. She was probably too scared to bring attention to herself. He didn't blame her; the others were being particularly vicious today.

Suddenly, blinding pain blanketed his vision, turning the world almost entirely white as something collided with the back of his skull. He didn't know when he had decided to put his head down on the desk, but it had apparently been a good idea. He let the cool surface of the wooden desk try and soothe the splitting headache that had cropped up. He let his eyes swim until they rested on a small stapler. Made of metal with sharp corners, one of which was red, the deceptively small stapler lay at rest on the floor as if to deny any accusations. At least, the whispering had stopped.

"Mister Winchester!" None wanted to face the owner of that voice that gave the impression of death warming the grave. One student in particular, with big meaty arms and brown cropped hair, sat frozen in place. His eyes seemed almost disbelieving as he looked at Jaune who didn't seem to be moving aside; he'd almost think he had killed him if he didn't see the movements of his back steadily rising and falling. Miss Goodwitch strode with slow deliberate steps until she was towering over Cardin, locking eyes with him the entire way.

"We will have words after class." Her emerald eyes swung over to where Jaune sat, one side of his head flush against the desk. She could see a small rivulet of blood poor down one side, but she could see a patch of hair colored slightly darker than the rest. He had been injured before he came to class. Her frown softened as she watched Jaune groan in pain for a moment. "Miss Rose, would you take Mister Arc to infirmary." It wasn't an a suggestion or a request.

Ruby nodded fearfully before standing and looping her friend's arm over her shoulder. As she struggled to the door, Miss Goodwitch turned her attention back towards Cardin for a several long seconds before walking back to the front of the classroom to resume her lesson. Slowly, the two past through the door before slowly trudging down towards the infirmary.

"You alright there, Jaune? I gotta make sure you're not gonna pass out on me or anything like that, okay?" Ruby looked toward the first friend she had made at Beacon as they moved down the halls. Jaune hadn't said anything for a while and if he had a concussion, it could lead to some disastrous results. All in all, his behavior was scaring her, though she knew he would never mean to do so on purpose. Listening closely, she heard a few mumblings that he was alright. She also thought she heard something about triplets and mothers. Ruby liked Jaune, but if he was confessing to her, she feared for his safety. It wasn't because he might have a concussion, but because of what Yang would do to him if she found out about it.

Eventually, as they walked to the medical wing of the academy, Jaune recovered some, even managing to walk mostly under his own power. Jaune thanked her for her help and let her go back to class. The doctor on staff examined his head wound, but thankfully prescribed it as a minor blow and that it would heal. The doctor wrote Jaune a note, cleaned and bandaged the wound, and told him to go sleep it off in the dorm. Jaune shed most of his clothes, some of which had dried off, before he slowly climbed under the covers.

As he slept, he dreamed of heroic deeds and fighting wars.


	3. Scouring

**RWBY is property of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type-Moon. I create this for fun, not profit... Please don't sue me. I don't have anything.**

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><p><strong>"For it is in passing that we achieve immortality." <strong>

The light of the shattered moon fell onto the marble floor of the office lined with gears. Two figures, a boy and an old man, stood at the epicenter. They stood tall and proud, their eyes closed in near silent concentration. The man began to glow with a brilliant green glow that banished the darkness near them.

**"Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death."**

The man had grasped the shoulder of the boy, searching for something deep within him. His aura, the light of his soul, sank deep, reaching out for its brother within this boy with hair the color of flames.

**"I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee."**

Ozpin opened his eyes and looked at Shirou. He pulled his hand away from Shirou's shoulder and gave a deep sigh. He turned away from Shirou and rubbed at his brow. His levels of aura had not dipped at all like they would in a successful unlocking. The ritual had failed.

However, Shirou didn't open his eyes. He was still examining his own spiritual state. His magic circuits were untouched, but he didn't feel any different. If he had a new energy source to deal with, he couldn't sense it. "Headmaster, I don't think it worked."

Shirou only confirmed what Ozpin had feared. Shirou was without aura. Ozpin took a moment to ponder the full extent of this. Shirou would be defenseless and he wouldn't be able to ever use dust as Nature's Wrath required the light of the soul to actually use it. It was an incredibly strange situation as all beings with a soul had the capacity to utilize aura, even animals. Only the creatures of Grimm didn't have it. At least until Shirou came along. Still, given what the boy had shown and told him, he wouldn't be completely defenseless.

"Perhaps our worlds are far more different than we had first thought." At Shirou's furrowing of his brow, he continued saying, "It is entirely possible that our physiology is different, making it so that you are incapable of our aural techniques. In the same manner, it is most likely that we, the people of Remnant, are incapable of using your sorcery."

"Magecraft, not sorcery," Shirou mumbled absentmindedly as he considered this new information.

"Oh? What's the difference?"

Shirou blinked. The inquisitive tone in Ozpin's question sounded sincere. It reminded him of when he first started learning from his dad. Quoting from those long past lessons, Shirou explained. "Sorcery is magic that cannot be replicated by mundane means. With my magecraft, I am able to recreate swords for instance. A blacksmith is easily able to replicate this feat with a hammer and a forge. However, feats such as time travel or bringing the dead back to life is impossible with mundane resources. Those who can do so are known as sorcerers."

Time travel? Reanimation? Such things were possible? Ozpin's mind boggled at such thoughts.

"Besides, even if you could use magecraft, I'm not entirely sure that teaching people how to use it would be a good idea." Shirou had the decency to look sheepish at this. He knew that such an idea could easily be considered selfish, even more so considering that the people of Remnant needed every tool possible to survive this dangerous world.

"Why not?" Ozpin's tone was not sharp, merely confused. In the short time that he had known the boy, he had come to understand that Shirou was a kind soul. The refusal of teaching others a new way to defend themselves went against what he thought Shirou believed in. It was puzzling to say the least.

"The way it was explained to me was that the strength of magic is communal, providing drastically reduced effects the more it is used by other people. Imagine having a spell that could create a pound of gold over the course of a year. Well, if somebody else learned that spell, instead of having a pound of gold, you would have half of a pound. If a hundred people learned it, you'd have a hundredth of a pound of gold, and so on."

Ozpin nodded. It seemed to make sense, and regardless, the probability of him being able to use magic was very slim given that Shirou couldn't use aura. Nonetheless, it probably couldn't hurt to try. "Is there any way to tell for sure?"

"I suppose. Though to be honest, I am... well," Shirou faltered. It was a little embarrassing to admit it openly, but it was the truth. He had already accepted it himself. "I am a poor magus. I could never learn anything beyond Projection. Honestly, my only real credit as a user of magecraft is that I have Unlimited Blade Works. However, I can still use a basic skill called Structural Grasping. I can use it to analyze structural composition, so I could probably use it to see if you have magic circuits in your body."

"Alright. How do we go about this?" Ozpin felt confident enough that he could defend himself in the worst case scenario. If he was hurt in any way, his aura could heal him easily enough.

Shirou held a hand out to his boss. "All I need is your hand." Grasping the white haired man's proffered fingers, Shirou felt his circuits hum to life. He closed his eyes as he started concentrating. "Trace on." His prana filled Ozpin's body, mapping out every tissue, every muscle in him. However, Ozpin was dead on in his theory. He didn't have any circuits. Shirou sighed, letting go of Ozpin's hand. "Looks like you were right. You don't have-Are you alright?"

Ozpin had seen everything. The moment Shirou's magic entered his body, he was shown the boy's, no, man's memories. He had seen the fire, the promise to his father, the red spear plunging deep within his heart, the cruel cackling of the witch, the love he shared with the girl, the fight with the King of Heroes, and his ultimate sacrifice that brought him to this world. Ozpin stumbled backwards, leaning heavily against the desk. As Shirou moved to his side to see what was the matter, he wondered if he could truly ask so much of this man who had already given so much, who reminded him so much of the children he watched over.

Who reminded him of when he himself was young.

"Don't..." Ozpin struggled to speak, his mind rattled by the sudden and forceful intake of knowledge. "Don't ever do that again. To anyone. Ever." The sheer authority in his voice and the keenness in his gaze gave Shirou pause, who wondered at what had just happened. It was only because of his past experiences that Ozpin had not crumbled under the traumas that this man so young had experienced when they had washed over him all at once.

He prayed that nobody else would ever see those memories.

* * *

><p>"Blake, come on. You've been studying those things for hours. Let's go spar." Yang Xiao Long was becoming more and more concerned for her partner with each passing day. Hunting down the White Fang had become more than a goal for her. Blake was barely sleeping anymore and her combat performance was noticeably slipping. Ruby and Weiss had been trying all day to get her to rest or at least do something relaxing, but they had been totally ignored by the girl who had been swallowed up by this obsession.<p>

Just like Yang was being ignored now.

Yang moved to the opposite side of the library table where Blake had set up shop and took off her jacket. She brushed off the stares from the few boys in the otherwise empty library and covered the maps that her partner was utterly absorbed in. Blake jumped back slightly in shock, blinking heavily before realizing what Yang had done.

"What? I'm busy," Blake ground out, angry at being interrupted. She took the jacket, tossed it aside onto the floor, and realigned her slightly shuffled maps.

Yang let the jacket lay where it was crumpled up. She had Blake's attention now and she wasn't about to let it go lest she lose her again. "You need to take a break." Yang was usually the relaxed one of the team, letting life happen as it would and being lax with a lot of responsibilities. Right now, that wasn't the case. Getting into what Ruby affectionately called 'Big Sister Mode,' she matched Blake's annoyed glare with a stern look.

"I'll take a break when we stop them." She didn't need to say who. They both knew who she was talking about and saying the name aloud would draw unnecessary attention.

"And you'll also take one now. Look at you. When was the last time you even slept?" Yang was not one for subtlety. When she argued, it was loud and often violent. Thankfully, she managed to reign in her temper before she destroyed something. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to spare her from the irate librarian yelling at her to get out. Yang took one look at the triumphant smirk that had settled on Blake's face before storming out, cursing wildly under her breath.

Outside the double doors of the library, she was greeted by Weiss. "Were you successful?" The duelist looked behind Yang, hoping to see their friend in tow.

"No," Yang muttered. "She's being stubborn as hell. I swear, if she didn't have to go to class or eat, she'd sleep in there."

Weiss sighed. Yang had been sort of their team's last hope at reaching her directly. The brawler knew the ninja the best, but if that had failed...

"I don't know what to do anymore." It was hard for her to admit. Weiss had always prided on excelling in every subject, at overcoming every obstacle. Her admitting defeat like this was a black mark on her pride, made only worse by the fact that she had sworn an oath that she would be there to help her friend.

"Well, we still have time. At least we can try and get her to come to the dance." Yang watched with some happiness as Weiss perked up a little at that. The two of them had been tasked with overseeing the preparations for the dance. Any other time, Yang would have dreaded the task, but this was a chance to get closer to her friend. She floundered with trying to find an activity or common interest that they shared, but it seemed that the dance was the perfect opportunity to get closer to the only person on the team she felt distant to.

Then Blake had gone mental.

Now, everybody's thoughts were about how they could save Blake from herself, Yang's especially. She knew what it was like to be driven by a burning passion, only to have it almost destroy her.

A shriek of righteous fury erupted besides her, jarring Yang from her thoughts. While they had been lost in thought, the pair had turned a corner blindly and Weiss had accidentally gotten her pristine white boots got in a soapy metal bucket. In that brief moment of confusion where her brain tried to process what had happened, she tried kicking the bucket off her foot. The only thing that had accomplished was throwing dirty water and suds all over her combat attire.

"Stop! Calm down! You'll only make it worse!" A male voice cried out. A guy their age came up from behind them holding a mop. He knelt down besides Weiss, his pant legs soaking in the water spilled out onto the floor. He didn't even try to look up Weiss' skirt as he gently but quickly pried the bucket off her foot. Yang was impressed; most guys would have tried to sneak a peek on one of the school's most sought after women. Still, his gentlemanly behavior didn't save him from Weiss' wrath.

"You jerk! What are you doing?" Her normally pale face was awash with red, her fury coming to full bear against this... this pervert who came from out of nowhere. She was glad that the ruffles of her combat skirt were specially designed to protect her modesty with her aerial maneuvers in mind, otherwise this scum would have gotten a free look at her underwear.

Yang watched as the guy stood up, Weiss menacing in his face. He set the bucket down before replying, an annoyed look on his face after he went to the trouble of helping her. "I was just getting my bucket off you. I don't know why you're yelling at me when it's your fault. It seems a little ungrateful, especially when you got filth everywhere." It was true. Weiss hadn't only gotten her dress wet, but the floors and even the walls as well. At least Weiss had the decency to look embarrassed, the righteous red fury reduced to a light dusting of pink as she averted her gaze. "Maaah, now I have to reclean everything."

Taking a moment to examine him now their excitement had died down a little, the two realized that he was wearing a janitor's uniform. It certainly explained the mop. The pink on Weiss' face deepened as Yang palmed her own face.

"I'm really sorry," Weiss apologized. It was her fault and she now realized that he had actually been a gentleman. An idea sparked in her mind. "Here, I'll fix it for you." Weiss drew Myrtenaster and spun the chamber to her weapon, the janitor looking at it intently. The chamber settled on a vial of deep blue dust and Weiss took a stance. A large glyph formed in front of her as she swung her rapier, surprising the red haired kid. The grime lifted off of the walls, forming a torrent of dirty water as it launched itself into the bucket. That dust had been somewhat expensive, but it was the least she could do. Besides, she had a literal mine of the stuff back home, so it was easily replaced.

The guy was stunned with the ease of cleaning, before shaking his head and smiling. "If I could do that, this job would be so easy." The joke cleared the air and drew smiles from both of the girls.

"I really am sorry," Weiss repeated. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Weiss Schnee of the Schnee Dust Company." A brief look of confusion passed over his face, but Weiss was not totally surprised. Her family's company, while also dealing in some minor trades such as beauty products, was mostly known to huntsmen due to their dealings in dust. A guy outside of their targeted demographic probably wouldn't have heard of her family's company.

"And I'm Yang. Yang Xiao Long, and don't you forget it," Yang excitably claimed as she leaned on her much shorter teammate, drawing a small scowl from the white haired beauty. In contrast, her expression was much friendly, a toothy grin that only grew when the janitor's smile widened in response.

The guy bowed at the waist slightly. "My name is Emiya Shirou. It's a pleasure to meet both of you." Shirou looked back at the bucket and considered it for a second. His gaze moved back towards the heiress'. "That really was amazing." It was a good introduction to what huntsmen were really capable of. He had tried unsuccessfully for the past couple of days to watch some of the training that went on here, only to be utterly unsuccessful.

"Well, of course. All huntsmen-in-training are able to do that." Weiss haughtily replied, only for Shirou to take a sudden step back, a strange look on his face. "Are you ok?" Weiss asked, slightly concerned for this guy who hadn't acted like a total jackass like most of the boys in this school did.

Shirou caught himself in painful memory. "Uh, yeah." His smile turned bitter sweet as he thought of the girl he had fallen in love with saying the almost exact same thing. "You just reminded me of somebody I know is all." He was looking at the bucket now. He couldn't stand looking into those eyes that reminded him so much of her. They were even the same color. An awkward silence hung in the air.

Yang didn't do awkward silences.

"So how long have you been here at Beacon?" She cheerfully asked, trying to change the conversation away from what looked like an obviously painful subject. She didn't know if he was being bullied by that somebody or what, but he obviously didn't wanna talk about it.

Shirou was grateful to the beautiful blonde and took the obvious out. "Well, actually I just got hired here a couple of days ago."

"Oh, just like those three that got here a couple of days ago." The boy, Mercury, had been kinda cute and Emerald had that signature green hair, but the one that really came to Yang's mind was Cinder with her jaw-dropping beauty. Shirou had no idea who Yang was talking about, but he nodded along anyway.

"Well, it was pleasant meeting you, Emiya. Unfortunately, we made plans with some friends to go to town this afternoon," Weiss politely said. While she appreciated him not being a jerk like some other people she knew, she really did not want to associate herself any further with a janitor. "So unfortunately, we have to leave. Good day." She gave him a brief curtsey and started walking down the hall towards her dorm room.

"Yeah, Short Stuff. It was really cool meeting you." Shirou looked a little put out at the remark to his height. With him standing at a stout 5'4, Yang easily had a good amount of height over him. "See ya around, alright?" Waving goodbye at the redhead, she jogged slightly to catch up to the heiress. As she did, she couldn't help but feel that she had forgotten something. A series of thuds to her right caught her attention. A group of boys were lying down on the floor, goofy smiles on their faces and blooding leaking slightly from their noses. Yang looked on in confusion before a brief chill washed over her almost bare shoulders.

"Crap. I forgot my jacket."

* * *

><p>The sound of metal striking metal rang out. A display panel hung on the wall, showing the late time and a sliver of yellow next to a red bar. Though several figures were moving throughout the room, only one was actually breathing hard from exertion. His blonde hair clung to his forehead as he tried to dodge and parry blows from silvery recreations of Life's greatest enemies, his eyes moving wildly as he tried to measure and predict their movements.<p>

A flash of steel and he was on the ground, the air rushing out of his lungs from the impact. A loud buzzer sounded and the robots stopped, moving back to their places. The ones he had hacked into pieces glowed slightly, a slight scratch of metal against metal as gears and wires reconnected to their rightful place. One didn't fully repair itself, an orange light turning on its forehead as its small tin voice announced it was out of dust.

Jaune sighed as he continued to lay down on the floor of the training hall. While he had vastly improved since first coming to Beacon, he felt like his progress was slowly starting to grind to a halt. When he told Pyrrha about it, she had laughed it off. She told him that he was doing fine, that it was just in his mind, that he was still making progress in leaps and bounds. A few weeks later, Pyrrha wasn't saying that anymore. Now, she just looked concerned and, when pressed for an actual answer, admitted that she didn't know what could be the problem. He hadn't gone to anyone else about it. He couldn't. That would just be more trouble than it was worth.

Jaune didn't get many nights to himself like tonight. Pyrrha was busy with a weekly night class, and instead of doing what he would have done before coming to the academy, he started practicing on his own. Naturally, he had started sneaking into one of the training halls. The students had been explicitly forbidden from practicing by themselves by Miss Goodwitch, claiming that there could easily be a malfunction or bug by these relatively new simulations and that there could be disastrous results if nobody knew where they were. So Jaune hadn't told anybody about this.

Not even Pyrrha knew about it.

He'd feel guilty about it if it wasn't working. Before, Jaune could barely handle the easiest training program the computer had. Now, he was almost at a benchmark he had set for himself at the beginning of the year, a simulation where even Pyrrha herself started to falter when she was practicing by herself.

Jaune picked himself off of the floor and breathed in deeply. He regretted that decision almost immediately, his nose wrinkling. The smell of blood, sweat, and oil was not entirely pleasant. He moved towards the door leading to the observatory room where the main console was located. After taking a long pull of that sweet and clear water from his now nearly empty bottle, he sat himself down heavily on a bench and interacted with the machine.

He froze in place when the heavy door behind him unlocked and swung open, the sound echoing in his head like a death sentence. He turned around and thanked to whatever entity was watching over him when he saw that it wasn't Goodwitch, but instead was that red-headed janitor kid. Still, he wasn't supposed to be here.

Shirou froze when he saw the blonde kid from a few days ago who hurt himself badly. Nobody was supposed to be in here. "Ah, don't mind me. I'm just here to clean."

Not being immediately reprimanded was a good thing in Jaune's book. It meant that he had a good chance of not getting in trouble. "Uhhh... Go right ahead," Jaune replied somewhat uneasily.

The redhead pulled a cart out from behind the door, its surface laden with various bottles and rags. Jaune nearly gagged when the strong smell of bleach and other cleaning materials were added to the other pungent smells in the room. He watched as the janitor moved into the simulation room and started mopping the floor. Jaune wasn't in any hurry to get back to training as he waited for his aura to replenish itself. As a built-in safety precaution, the computer wouldn't start any simulation if it knew there were other people in the room who didn't have a minimum level of aura available. He was content for the moment to just watch lazily as the guy cleaned the floor of any stains.

Shirou moved from corner to corner of the room until he came across the fallen body of the mechanical beast. It looked like a Beowolf from what he could remember from his brief stay in the Emerald Forest, the only difference being the dented and scratched metal carapace instead of the black fur and gleaming white bone.

He carefully dragged the robot into the other room so as not to leave scratches as he went. Shirou walked back into the room where the blonde kid sat. "Ok, I'm done in that room. You can get back to your training in there."

Jaune smiled in appreciation. It looked like he wouldn't get in trouble tonight. "Thanks." He got back up, punched a big red button on the face of the console, and started walking towards the door. Before he walked in, he paused and turned back towards the kid who had already started wiping down the seats. "Ahhh, thanks by the way. I mean, I'm sorry." The janitor looked up, confused at the weird statement. "The other day, when I accidentally knocked over your bucket. By the way, I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc"

Shirou straightened himself at that before smiling amiably. "My name is Shirou, and it's alright. It didn't take me long to fix it. I'm just glad to see you're able to start training again so soon. Besides, you're not actually the only person to knock it over."

Jaune laughed slightly at that, glad to hear that there was somebody else in the school who was as clumsy as he was. His conscious abated, he walked proudly into the middle of the training room. He linked up his scroll to the monitor, his aura displayed prominently at around a third of its maximum capacity.

The buzzer sounded and, immediately, Jaune was on the defensive as mechanical Beowolves sprang forth. A series of swipes came in from his left and Jaune rolled forward, dodging the assault. A staggeringly huge giant suddenly took up the entirety of his view. A large set paw came from above him and Jaune raised his sword to push the attack away.

A sudden pain came in from behind as a set of claws raked across his back. Gritting his teeth, he whirled around, his sword a blur as it caught the Beowolf across its face. He rolled again, desperate to gain as much distance between himself and his opponents. Having regained a little breathing space, Jaune counted the number of threats he had to deal with. It looked like he had an Ursa and four Beowolves to deal with.

The Beowolves rushed at him while the Ursa slowly paced to flank him from behind. Jaune found himself continuously on the defensive from the Beowolves' attack, only lashing out when he was sure he wouldn't get punished for it. The flash of the sharp metal edges moved almost too fast for his eyes to follow kept Jaune's attention. It was for that reason that he was caught unaware by the powerful punch of the Ursa from his blind point, draining away the last of his aura that had been slowly dwindling from the continuous onslaught of the Beowolves. The buzzer sounded again and the robots returned to their original positions.

Jaune couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Damnit! What am I doing wrong?" Jaune yelled, angry at himself for having done even worse than the last attempt. He pounded at the floor with the pommel of Crocea Mors, the dull thud of metal meeting stone echoing throughout the large chamber. Tears of frustration welled up in his eyes as he continued to mentally berate himself.

"You're not using your shield right," a voice suddenly chimed in. Jaune looked up in surprise. Shirou was standing in the doorway, his mop held in both hands as he leaned against the doorjamb.

"What? What do you mean? I use my shield just fine." Jaune defended himself. Pyrrha had taught him how to use his shield for maximum effect on the battle field. In his mind, he replayed his every move. He had used his shield to maximum effect.

"Your shield collapses into a sheathe, right? You can use that to make it less awkward when rolling and save some energy. You can also use it as a blunt edged weapon due to its durability as a shield. Also, when you do use it as shield, you don't block as often as you can. You parry too often with your sword and that wears down on your strength." The lecture came easy to Shirou. After all, he spoke nothing but the truth. The moment he had laid eyes on Crocea Mors, he had learned everything about it like every other weapon he saw. He knew how it was created. He knew its history.

He knew every one of the techniques that its previous wielders developed in order to use it to its fullest potential. He didn't let the blonde teen on the floor in front of him know that however. He was trying to maintain his cover as a janitor and keep his abilities as much a secret as possible.

So why was he helping him?

Thinking about it, he had to say it was because Jaune reminded him of himself. When he saw all of the sword's history, he saw all the desperation and resolve that its current wielder had, all of his aspirations and hopes, all of his shortcomings and failures. Jaune wanted to be a hero as much as Shirou did, like his grandfather and his father before him.

Shirou couldn't help but respect that.

So he did the one thing that nobody had ever done for him. He gave Jaune a little help and encouragement.

Jaune got up off of the floor and examined Crocea Mors' sheathe like he never had before. Sure enough, there were scuff marks on the edges of the family heirloom. He looked back towards the door, only to find that Shirou had left. As he sat there on the cold stone floor, he could only wonder at how that kid who was barely his age had known so much more about his weapon than he did.

* * *

><p><strong>Author's Notes:<strong>

**It is in the wake of the passing of a great man that I write this. We all find ourselves lost in sorrow, wondering what could have been and remembering what was. To those at Rooster Teeth if any of you are reading this, I wish to express my condolences to you. I, too, am familiar with the loss of a loved one, and I know that their sudden disappearance leaves a rift in your life. In fact, I recently lost my best friend of ten years recently, which is in part of why I have been slow in updating this story.**

**Also, my computer is shitting bricks and I have no idea why.**

**So hopefully, I get that fixed soon. That way I can get more updates to you guys more swiftly.**

**Anyways, I need sleep, so I'll leave you with this, my personal motto:**

**Do what makes you happy.**


	4. Divergence

**RWBY is the property of Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. and Fate/Stay Night is property of Type-Moon. I am but a poor writer and, as such, own nothing... Wait... Awwwww... Now I've made myself sad.**

**The more things stay the same, the more they change.**

* * *

><p>Jaune was standing next to Goodwitch, facing the other students up in the stands that overlooked the arena floor. On the wall behind him, the large monitor showed, on one side, a bright green bar underneath his photo. The other side held an empty frame, the bar beneath it devoid of color.<p>

"Mister Arc, who would you like to face off against?" Goodwitch asked him. Her green eyes remained on her Scroll, her fingers deftly brushing against it. Jaune couldn't see what was on it, but if he had to guess, he'd probably say she was looking at a roster of all the other students attending today. He could his team silently cheering him on in the stands. Flashing them a quick smile, he thanked them. After seeing Weiss ask out Neptune last night, he kind of needed it. Just the sight of her sitting up in the stands made him feel depressed. He had never stood a chance with her. Even the janitor was a better fighter than him.

The more he thought about it though, the more he wondered why. Why hadn't she even given him a chance? Since day one, she had belittled and humiliated him. What had he ever done to her to deserve that? He had shown her nothing but kindness and admiration. He understood that maybe sometimes he was a bit obnoxious, but damnit, he had always had the best of intentions at heart. His grip on his sword tightened and his shield trembled at his side.

"I want to fight Weiss."

A hush fell over the crowd. Even Goodwitch looked somewhat taken aback. Jaune's infatuation with the young heiress was well known to all who paid even the slightest bit of attention to how the guy acted around her. In fact, there was something of a betting pool on his chances with her, ranging from the acceptance of his feelings to the more popular outright rejection. Rumor had it that Professor Port was the only one to bet on Mister Arc succeeding with the girl.

"I accept," Weiss' voice called out from the stands. The white-haired huntress-in-training stood from her seat in the front row next to her teammates and made her way to the girls' locker room to get ready. All could see that vicious smile on her face, her hooded eyes announcing to the world that she was prepared to trounce the dunce.

He could see the concerned looks of his teammates. Pyrrha had her hand to her mouth, seemingly shocked by his declaration of battle. Nora, nervously talking to Ren as she was, watched the blonde boy from the corner of her eye. Ren's head was tilted slightly as he listened to Nora, his brow furrowed deeply as he watched his leader. Turning slightly towards his teammates, he gave them a silent nod. At that, their anxiety seemed to dwindle a little. They seemed to understand what he meant at least.

This wasn't an attempt to win her over. This was for him. He needed to beat Weiss, to show both her and himself that he didn't need her. Her actions last night had not been meant to hurt him, but they had shown him that he was never going to have her. Not as a lover, maybe not even as a friend. Yes, this was, in part, revenge for everything she had said and done to him over the past year, but it was also just as much validation for him. If Jaune could do this, he could move on.

He had to do this.

Weiss returned to the floor, Myrtenaster at her hip. She took her placed across from Jaune, Goodwitch between the two of them as their referee. She drew her weapon as Jaune took a battle stance of his own. Her name appeared on the monitor, green filling the empty bar all the way to the brim. Her mind raced, looking for weaknesses in the goof's style. She'd give him this: he'd been working on his technique at least some. There were far fewer openings now than when he first started in the year. Still, she would defeat him. She was a Schnee.

"Begin!"

Weiss dashed forward, her glyphs propelling her forward through the air just inches above the ground. Her rapier sang as it sliced through the air, a sharp note crying out from it as Jaune struck it from below with the blade of Crocea Mors to send it wailing above his head. She twirled, bringing her blade closer to her and pushing herself off Jaune's shield as he tried to bash her with it. She righted herself a few feet away before rushing to charge in again at him.

Jaune was ready for her. Myrtenaster came at his throat, howling as it ripped through the air. He caught it with his shield, stopping the blow cold. He watched as Weiss dodged his slice at her midriff by crouching into a kneel, ducking underneath his strike. As soon as he saw the glyph begin to form under her feet, he knew he only had moments to take control of the fight. If he continued to stay on the defensive, he couldn't win. He knew she was faster, and that she knew it as well. She'd continue to pick at his aura until he lost, so he did something she'd never expect from him.

He fought dirty.

Technically, there were no rules in this match. In the wilderness of Remnant, huntsmen had to do anything they could in order to win against the Grimm. If you didn't, you died. Simple as that. Still, Weiss was completely surprised when Jaune's knee brutally caught her in the cheek. The glyph beneath her activated and she was launched backwards instead of straight up where another glyph had formed, prepared to launch her behind her opponent and wreck him. She landed on her seat some distance from her opponent, but instead of choosing to get back up, she looked at him with bewildered eyes.

Wasn't she the girl he claimed he loved? Where was the usual affection that he regarded her with? When did he get somewhat competent? Those thoughts and several others similar to them ran through her mind. Now she noticed his expression, which had not changed throughout the match. His eyes were hard, slanted in fierce determination as he looked down at her from the floor. His mouth was set in a fierce scowl. Perhaps... Perhaps Weiss had been a little too rough with her rejection last night. Still, he had deserved for even thinking that guitar was a good idea.

His opponent wasn't getting up, but that was fine with him. If she wanted to sit right there and take it, he wasn't going to stop her. He had already given her so much, why not let this be the final bit? Jaune charged with a loud roar, his shield brought to bear in front of him and sword raised high. His yell seemed to snap her out of daze and she rolled out of the way of his overhead strike.

Weiss got up into a crouch after she tumbled away. If she could disarm the buffoon, her chances of winning would dramatically increase. No matter how much she had upset him, even if it was wrongfully so, he would pay for humiliating her in front of her peers. Jaune charged forth again, stabbing at her while maintaining his position from behind the shield. She batted Crocea Mors away from her easily and launched a series of rapid strikes which slowly whittled away at his aura as they glanced almost uselessly off his shield.

She moved to use her dust again, but Jaune recognized the signs. The massive blue snowflake appearing underneath her when she grabbed her rapier with both hands was a little hard to miss. He rushed forward, leaping as the ground quickly froze below him. His shield slammed into her face and as he knocked her backwards several feet, he sliced across her stomach. He landed on the ground and, almost immediately, sharp red lines glowed beneath him. He rolled onto his side and onto his feet as a plume of fire erupted from where he had just landed. He had only a moment's rest before Weiss was on him, having abandoned using dust after seeing it had little effect to engage him directly.

Jaune backpedaled, his shield now fully guarding his face and upper torso from Weiss' wrath. He waited out the onslaught for a few seconds, but it didn't seem to end. A beep coming from his left arm caught his attention, signaling to him that he was in the yellow. He needed to end this fast. A quick glance to his side revealed to him that Weiss had already hit yellow as well. The few blows he had landed had been hard and punishing while Weiss' plethora had been plentiful but soft.

In one swift movement, Jaune stopped moving backwards and lunged forwards. Caught off guard, Weiss found her face being slammed with cold metal again, sending her staggering back some. Enraged at this successful repeat attack and slightly staggered, she spun the revolver of Myrtenaster, and pointed it at Jaune's sword. A blast of wind buffeted against the boy as he fought to stay in the ground, but as he did so, Crocea Mors was torn from his grip. Eager to finally end this sham of a fight, Weiss charged forward, her weapon screaming as it came in from his left. To her surprise and horror, Jaune ducked underneath her overextended blow. He popped the shield of Crocea Mors off his left hand into its sheathe form, caught it in his right, and swung it at her head.

The solemn expression on Jaune's face was the last thing Weiss saw before blunt metal crashed against her temple for the third time that fight and sent her into unconsciousness.

The sound of a buzzer blaring overhead cut across all the echoing sounds of battle in the room. Everybody sat, frozen in disbelief as the guy who everybody thought of as the loser of their year matched one of the best of their year. Their minds were reeling at what they had just seen. It took even Goodwitch a couple moments to compose herself. Their eyes wandered from where Weiss was sprawled to the side to where Jaune was standing, hands on his knees as he desperately drew deep breaths.

"Well done, Mister Arc," Goodwitch congratulated after several long moments. "You've certainly come a long way since the beginning of the school year. Would you help Miss Schnee back to her seat?" She watched as Jaune nodded and gingerly approached Weiss. The thought that the defeated girl was playing pretend just so she could blindside him crossed Jaune's mind. He gingerly picked her up in his arms and made his way back to the other members of team RWBY. He turned to get back to his teammates after setting her down gently next to them, but a hand on his sleeve kept him there. He looked back at the hand and saw it was attached to a despondent looking Ruby.

"Did you... Was this... Is there..."Ruby struggled, her questions dying on her lips as soon as they formed.

"Yes," was Jaune's simple reply to all of them. Nothing else needed to be said between the two. Ruby smiled a small, sad smile and Jaune matched her. Below them in the arena, another match started, Dove against another boy with silver hair that Jaune wasn't too familiar with.

"Hey Vomit Boy, that was a pretty slick move you pulled off at the end there," Yang said from her seat between her sister and her ebony haired partner. "You sure your sheathe can take that kinda punishment?" Sheathes weren't exactly famous for being used in combat.

Jaune nodded and mecha-shifted the sheathe into its shield form. He held out for them to examine."Yeah, it's all good. It's meant to be a shield first after all. If it couldn't take the heat, I'd probably be in a lot more trouble than not being able to just carry my sword around."

A loud bang rang out just then. "WATCH OUT!" Dove's sword came sailing wildly out from the arena floor towards them. Ruby, Blake, and Yang scrambled to get away from where it would land, and Jaune started to move with them until he remembered something. Weiss. She was still out like a light. If she got hit, her aura wouldn't be there to protect her.

A clang rang out followed by the sound of Dove's sword clattering against the floor. Jaune stood in front of the unconscious girl, his shield a wall before him. He reached down and tossed the sword back to Dove below. "Be more careful!" he shouted at the two fighters on the floor. "You almost seriously hurt someone up here!"

"Our bad. We'll be more careful next time," the silver hair boy easily called back, Mercury Jaune thought his name was. Everything about this guy screamed cool, from the way his hair was styled to the way he held himself. He reminded Jaune a lot of Sun's teammate, Neptune.

"Mister Arc is correct. You almost hurt somebody outside of your match, you two, and your score will certainly reflect that," Miss Goodwitch remarked as she stepped back onto the arena floor. Mercury seemed to accept it easily enough, just shrugging nonchalantly as though he didn't care, while Dove slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Please return to your seats with your teammates, gentlemen."

Jaune turned back to Team RWBY. "I should probably get back to my teammates." They made a plan to see each all at lunch and Jaune finally made his way back to the rest of Team JNPR. "Hey guys."

Pyrrha was the first to welcome back their leader. "Jaune, congratulations on your victory!" she chirped. "Miss Goodwitch was right. You've certainly made a significant amount of progress."

"Yeah! The way you just smacked her at the end there with your shield was so cool. Ooh, ooh! Pyrrha, did you teach him that neato move?" Nora excitedly asked. She was bouncing in her seat at this point. Her teammates were so cool, and it was great to see Jaune not being nearly as mopey as he was this morning. She wasn't the only one to see the difference. Pyrrha and Ren both noticed it too. Jaune just seemed far more relaxed.

"No, I didn't. I hadn't ever really thought about using a sheathe as a weapon. Now that I think about it though, I have fought a few people in tournaments who did use that style," Pyrrha answered. Their methods of fighting were very different from Jaune's though. Theirs had relied on speed and agility, but Jaune's relied on endurance and power. When her various opponents had used their sheathes, it was to slice or even tear. Jaune had used his as a club. "Where did you learn that?"

"I got a bit of advice from somebody I met," Jaune answered cautiously. If he had been worried about Pyrrha getting upset that he gotten help somewhere else, he had been wrong. Pyrrha smiled easily, happy that Jaune was opening up slightly to others. "Anyway, what are you guys doing for the dance? We're still meeting up to practice for that routine right?"

"Yeah!" Nora cheered. "I've been waiting all day for our practice! Ren and I are doing what we always do: going together!" Jaune and Pyrrha looked between her and Ren a few times.

"Did you-"

"We're still just friends, Jaune. Nora and I have always been just friends. We just happen to go everywhere together."Jaune and Pyrrha looked back at Nora to see her reaction to those words. Nora was still just smiling as brightly as ever before. She didn't seem to be upset at what Ren said. In fact, she looked even happier as she latched onto his back, her head popping up over his shoulder. "Nora, your chin's digging into my collar bone."

"Sorry Ren." She shifted her head slightly so that she wouldn't hurt her best buddy. "What about you two? Oh! jaune! How'd it go with Weiss last night?" Nora asked.

Jaune's gaze moved downwards. "It... uhh... it didn't go so well. Or at all. I found her asking somebody else and... well..." He looked back up to meet his teammates' sympathetic gazes. Ren was frowning slightly and Nora had tears welling up in the corners of her eyes. Pyrrha was looking away, a weird expression on her face. Probably pity, he thought.

Pyrrha felt guilty that she was a little happy about the turn of events. She liked Jaune, but she didn't like how manipulative and cruel Weiss could be at times. Of all her friends here at Beacon, she could comfortably say that Weiss was the one she tried to keep at a more than respectable distance. Oh, making an enemy out of a powerful family was never a good idea and knowing her would certainly have advantages in life. She could even say that Weiss was somewhat approachable at times, but from day one, when Weiss had approached her with that proposition, she could tell immediately that she was like the others. Hearing that he was still unattached was uplifting.

"How would you like to go with me?" Pyrrha offered. Weiss had her chance last night, had all the chances in the world. Nora was right. It was time to practice what she preached. Nora stopped whispering and giggling in Ren's ear as the odd pair watched the scene unfold before them.

"What? What about your date?" Jaune didn't want some guy who could probably kick his butt to come after him for stealing his date away.

Pyrrha's frown deepened. "Nobody's asked me yet."

Jaune boggled for a moment before catching himself."What? That's... But... You're Pyrrha Nikos! How could nobody ask you?"

"For exactly that reason. Everywhere I go, from the moment I started winning tournaments, people have put me on this pedestal, praising me. I'm sure you've heard my nickname around the school. 'Goddess of Victory.' Well, when people put you on a pedestal for long enough, you become separated from the people that put you there in the first place. Everybody assumes that I'm too good for them, that I'm on a level that they can't attain, that there's no point in even looking for a relationship with me."

"Pyrrha..."Jaune whispered. He didn't know what that felt like. All his life, people had thought the exact opposite of him. He struggled for every friend and relationship he had, constantly feeling like he had to prove himself, to prove that he was worth the effort. He didn't interrupt though. His mother had said that a good friend always listens until they finish speaking.

"That's what I like about you. When we met, you didn't even know my name. You never once treated me like that. You just treated me like a friend from the beginning, like a person. Thanks to you, I've made friends that will stay with me my entire life. You're the kind of guy that I would love to go to the dance with.

"So, Jaune Arc, would you be my date to the dance tonight?" Pyrrha asked, plain and simple. She was never the kind of girl to dance around a subject. If she had wanted to do something and it didn't really hurt anybody, then she would do it. She had wanted to fight in tournaments, so she fought. She had wanted to become a huntress, so she came to Beacon. Now, she wanted Jaune. The only reason she hadn't asked earlier was because, in her inexperience, she didn't know how much she liked Jaune. Even now, she wouldn't go so far as to say she loved him, but she really wanted to try.

So she asked.

For a moment, there wasn't anything else. Ren and Nora weren't on the bleachers behind them. The match going on below wasn't happening. Jaune didn't say anything for a moment as he thought.

"I'd love to."

For the rest of the day, everybody on Team JNPR had a smile on their faces. Pyrrha's especially was so bright, it could blind even the sun.

* * *

><p>Bass pumped faintly in the open night air as Shirou rolled his cart towards the Cross Continental Transit as the next stop in his route, the plastic wheels squeaking as they rolled. According to Ozpin, this was supposed to be a high security building. A lot of important information and data was located here. Shirou didn't care too much about it though. He was finally starting to grasp the basics of this world's written language, so it wouldn't make much sense to him. Besides, he really just was here to clean. After all, it was important to keep up pretenses.<p>

"Halt!" a guard in front of the main doors commanded. Shirou slowed down, and the guard approached him, his weapon cocked, though not pointed at him in a show of gun safety. "The dance is over that way. What're you doing here?" the guard demanded of Shirou. Shirou slowly reached into his pocket, careful not to aggravate the man with a loaded weapon, and pulled out his staff ID.

"I'm a member of the custodial staff. I'm supposed to clean here next." He wasn't cleaning here randomly. Ozpin and Shirou had selected this route on purpose. This guard wasn't the first one to interact with Shirou tonight. He had introduced himself as a janitor to several other officials at all the stops he had made within the last week. The more people that thought he was just a janitor, the less that would think he was something more.

The guard took the ID roughly and scanned it. The guard remained motionless for a few seconds, looking at the data that played across the inside of his visor. "Hmmm, looks like you really are a janitor-"

"I prefer custodian really."

"But we can't exactly leave you alone. Security and all that," the guard continued as if he hadn't heard Shirou. The guard reached up to his helmet and pushed a button. "Hey Frank, get out here." Another guard walked out and joined them. "Frank, I need you to stay with this guy while he cleans. He checks out as a janitor-"

"Custodian."

"But you never know these days, right?"

Frank seemed to deflate at the command. Obviously, he had been expecting something else. "I have to stay with him and watch him. Geez, that sounds even more boring than doing the cleaning myself!"

"Good, then you don't mind cleaning the barracks this week. Suck it up and do your job!"

Frank groaned. "That's not fair! I cleaned last week!" The guard that stopped Shirou turned fully to face Frank. Shirou couldn't see past his visor, but his body language said that he was annoyed. "Fine. This week too. Whatever. Come on kid. Just get it done fast," Frank directed him with a defeated tone.

Shirou nodded and followed Frank into the building, leaving the door guard behind. He gave a small wave at all the several other guards as he walked past them and left his cart in the corner. He noticed that all the men in the room tensed slightly as he opened up the compartment on the side of his cart and relaxed when they saw it was all just cleaning supplies inside. For the next half hour, Shirou swept and mopped and wiped and dusted the room, the men cordially staying out of the way as he went.

"Not bad kid. You work fast," Frank whistled. The floor was so clean, he could see his reflection in it. The phrase 'so clean, you can eat off it' came to mind. "You do independent work? Give me your card. I'll pay you." He didn't know what unholy rituals went on in there, but the barracks' bathrooms scared him. The last time he went in there, he almost passed out from the smell alone.

Frank helped Shirou move the cart up the stairs into the elevator. Pushed up against the wall due t lack of space, Shirou replied, "Sorry, I only work for Beacon. It's a contractual obligation" Frank pushed the button for the next floor up and the doors slid shut.

"That sucks. I really don't want to clean those bathrooms." The elevator stopped and Shirou rolled the cart out. He again set up shop in the corner, Frank leaning against a wall nearby. Shirou was content to merely clean. Frank wasn't.

"So where you from, kid?" Frank asked. He wasn't going to just sit around and watch a kid half his age clean an en otherwise empty room. At least downstairs, he could talk with his brothers-in-arms. Now, there was only the kid around to keep him occupied on a night.

Shirou wondered what would be alright to divulge. "I'm from Fuyuki." From what Ozpin had told him, it wasn't uncommon for small villages to never be officially recorded. It'd probably be alright to at least tell the truth, if not the whole of it.

"Never heard of it. Small village?" Frank took off his helmet and set it to the side on one of the computer desks next to him. Shirou got a good look at him for the first time. His dark hair was cut short, his hairline receding slightly to leave him with a prominent widow's peak. He was almost clean-shaven, a little bit of stubble at his neckline. Shirou didn't think he was incredibly attractive, but he definitely wasn't homely.

"I like to think it's decently sized," Shirou answered.

"What's it like?" Frank asked.

"It's home. It's one of the most beautiful places I know. There's a river that runs down the middle of it and sometimes, late at night, I'd go to the bridge that runs across it and watch the sunset," Shirou reminisced. His time in Remnant had been interesting, but he longed to be back with Rin. He thought of her every night since he came here. No matter how long he stayed in bed, it still felt cold.

"Sounds nice. I'd love to go there sometime," Frank said. "So why are you here?" At Shirou's confused gesturing to his mop and cart, he clarified, "I mean here in Vale." The kid didn't look like somebody whose village was overrun by Grimm.

Shirou dunked his mop in the cold sudsy water. "I had to leave. I didn't have much of a choice in where I went." The thick smell of industrial soap filled the room as Shirou set to cleaning.

"Why'd you leave?"

"It's... complicated," Shirou hesitated.

"Ah, I get it." Frank looked interested for the first time since Shirou met him. A sly smile slipped onto his face. "It was a girl, wasn't it?" he asked. "All the kids these days, going crazy for each other. Whatever happened, I'm sure it all work out. You just need to go back and settle it like a man. Trust me, I have experience with this kind of stuff," He chuckled, watching as the kid stood up straight and looked at the far corner of the room. The smile slipped from his face at the kid's somber expression.

"It's... I can't talk to her anymore. She's... beyond my reach." Shirou really didn't want to say anything more than that. He had spent more than enough time in here tonight to make an impression on any witnesses. All this thought of home was making him tired.

"Hey kid... Look, I'm so-" The elevator doors slid open and a woman in black slinked out from behind them. The air around her oozed with confidence and mystery.

"Excuse me, ma'am. Nobody's al... lowed... up..." Frank trailed off as he spotted two of his fellow guards slumped against the inside of the elevator. He reached for his gun beside him, but the woman quickly closed the distance before he could even take aim. The spike of a stiletto slammed into his unprotected cheek, pounding against his meager aura and throwing him back hard against the window. Frank was unconscious before he even hit the ground.

"Hmmm, nobody was supposed to be up here," the intruder cooed softly to herself. The sound of rubber swiftly thudding against tile caught her attention, alerting her to the young man who had been up here. "Well, looks like I'll have to take care of you as well." Her clothes burning an angry orange, she tucked and rolled away from the young man's attack. He was brandishing a mop of all things. This would be easy.

Prana flooding its entirety, Shirou swung his mop reinforced to the point where steel would break against it. The woman dodged, sliding backwards as flames wreathed her hands. He saw that when she stopped, the flames were replaced by two vicious looking short swords. As he catalogued the newest additions to his armory, the woman rushed him. A look of palpable confusion spread across her face as her blades clanged and stopped against the wooden handle of his mop.

"Clang?"

Shirou pushed harder against her, almost overtaking her in the impromptu battle of strength. She pushed aside her confusion and refocused on beating this kid. As it was, the two were deadlocked, their weapons struggling against each other. The black clad lady redirected his mop to the side and flipped away from him, launching herself into the air and bringing her blades together to form a bow. Tips lit ablaze, she launched three arrows at the fake janitor. Shirou brought his improvised weapon up and blocked the volley, easily stopping them from puncturing his skin.

He was not expecting them to explode. He was rocked back through a row of desks. He steadied himself back onto his feet, only to see his mop shattered along the aisle where he had been just moments ago and the woman knocking another flaming arrow. The twang of the bow was almost unheard as the roaring scream of death pierced the air. Shirou leaped to the side, taking brief cover as the missile rocketed past, blowing out a window somewhere behind him.

"Trace on!"

A small flash of light shone from behind one of the desks. The woman smirked as she pulled apart her weapons to their melee form. If she kept using explosive arrows, then she was bound to attract unwanted attention, which would defeat tonight's purpose. The red-haired kid walked from his hiding place. It seemed he was a dust user himself, seeing as he couldn't have possibly concealed those exotic looking blades without her noticing. He must have been a complete failure as a huntsman, probably a dropout. His stance was full of openings, just waiting for her to exploit them. Her swords knifed in towards him, looking to just rip his exposed flank into pieces. Another series of strikes flew towards his unprotected face. A kick meant to sweep his feet out from underneath him swung at his knees.

Something was wrong. She wondered what it was until a single strike from the black blade sent her flying back fifteen feet. Her instincts yelled at her to dodge, so she flipped up from her back away from where she laid prone. Two gleaming blades sank deep where she had been just moments before. Almost lazily, she realized that she hadn't hit him. Tears in her outfit revealing reddened skin beneath told her that her forward assault had failed and that he had easily reversed it on her. How? She was faster and far more agile than him for sure. She had years of experience and practice, though she would never say that aloud and would punish anybody who did. Who was this guy?

While had long since Shirou decided that Archer's style of combat was a special kind of cheating, there were times when he was glad to know it. He appreciated it for its cunning, but often times found himself annoyed for the danger it put him in. Archer, through years of practice, had devised a style intentionally filled with several openings in its guard. Mostly used against those who were his superior in combat, it let him close the gap between his and several opponents' levels of power by goading them to attack those weaknesses. If he knew how the opponent was going to attack and where, he could start to dodge and counter their movements before they even began.

He watched the woman slip into a defensive position, Frank some odd twenty feet behind her. Shirou could easily enough close the distance between the two of them if she went after the guard as a hostage. Transforming her weapon back into a bow, the woman reached behind her back and readied something small and indiscernible from where he stood. Shirou lunged forward, Kanshou and Bakuya readied to deflect anything she launched. She fired, the twang audible in the lack of the previous roars of her exploding arrows.

Shirou crossed his swords, shielding his upper torso and neck, but it served him no good. The vial of white dust shattered on contact with the metal of his blades, a deafening flash of sound and light replacing the room of computers. Disoriented, he felt himself colliding with the cold floor. Quickly, he readied himself for any attack, but none came for several minutes. His vision still swimming and a distinct ringing in his ears, Shirou rubbed at his eyes.

His vision had yet to return to normal, but he couldn't let himself be off guard in a fight. No matter how hard he scanned the room, the intruder was out of sight. Shirou remained crouched, but still no attacks came. The more his vision slowly returned to normal, the more he became sure that she had fled. He remember that Frank was still unconscious. Spying a dark and blurry figure against the wall, Shirou rushed over to Frank, but before he even got to him, a young female voice rang out.

"Don't worry mister! I'll save you!"

Suddenly, he was on the defensive again. A flurry of powerful blows came from every direction as he struggled to keep up with them. The figure's shadowy form was heavily blurred, and it was hard to tell where each strike would come from.

Ruby didn't know who this guy was, but she had to save the guard from him. When she stepped out of the elevator, the first thing she saw was a red haired guy around her age running to attack an old man. Immediately, she attacked, her semblance slowly building up to speed up and strengthen her attacks. This guy was good though. Even if he was struggling to keep up with her, she had to go faster and faster if she wanted to land even a single blow on him.

Shirou dodged as frantically as he could, the sound of close gunfire stabbing into his already damaged ears. If his eyesight could just-

Ruby watched as the red-haired boy crumpled to the ground. Behind him stood General Ironwood with his foot outstretched. They watched the kid for a few moments to make sure he wasn't getting back up, but when he didn't move, General Ironwood looked at Ruby and smiled.

"Good work. You're Miss Rose, right?" the general asked. Cautiously, he inched closer to the prone boy and kicked away the blades behind the desk out of sight. Once he heard them stop sliding, he crouched down and pulled off the boy's shoes and socks. Preoccupied with his task as they were, neither Ruby or Ironwood noticed a brief of light from where the blades stopped.

"Ummm, yeah. How'd you know? And what are you doing?" Ruby asked, holding her nose closed with one hand while the other sheathed Crescent Rose. She heard from Yang and her friends from Sigil that all boy's feet smell horrible. The locker rooms back at her old academy had just proven it true.

General Ironwood didn't look up as he tied the socks together and bound the red-head's hands behind his back. "Oz, I mean Headmaster Ozpin told me about you. The first thing he said about you was that you have silver eyes." He paused for a moment, and looked at her for several moments. "It seems he was right. As for what I am doing, I am currently without handcuffs, so this will have to do for the moment."

Ruby watched him tie a complicated knot for a few moments, before she remembered something. "Oh, the old man!" She dashed over to the unconscious guard, a storm of rose petals in her wake. She checked his breathing and hurriedly looked him over for wounds.

"Damn, poor Frank's going to have a headache tomorrow," the general's baritone voice called from behind her. In his right hand was a Scroll while his left easily dragged the assailant behind him. "Don't worry about this guy too much, Miss Rose. He's still alive, but he'll be out for a while."

Giving a sigh of relief, Ruby stood up and faced the tall man. "So what happens now?"

General Ironwood looked down at the boy in his grasp, a hard look on his face. "I have a few questions for this guy." It was about to be the kid's worst night of his life.

* * *

><p>Pyrrha was having the best night of her life. It was even better than the time she won her first championship. Jaune had been nothing but a complete gentleman this entire time. Sure, he floundered a few times, trying his best to make it as perfect as possible, but Pyrrha stopped him early on and told him to just treat as any other night on the rooftops. Only without the weapons. Jaune calmed down with that and found a suaveness that Pyrrha had only dreamed of.<p>

As the party got into full swing, the two of them, along with Nora and Ren, set the dance floor ablaze, surprising everybody with the dance routine they had practiced in secret. Jaune had proved to be a much more capable dancer than she had first suspected given his performance during their rehearsals. Their other teammates had tapped out soon enough, Ren not being totally comfortable dancing in front of others and Nora to enjoy his company off to the sides of the floor. Now, after several hours of dancing in the limelight with her date, Pyrrha was taking a breather while Jaune grabbed the two of them punch.

Nothing could ruin her night.

"Having a good time?" a dejected voice asked next to her. Weiss. One of the last people Pyrrha wanted to run into tonight, the absolute worst being the members of Team CRDL.

"Yes, actually. Jaune has been a wonderful date so far," Pyrrha answered. She turned towards Weiss, and was mildly shocked. Slight dark marks ran down from the corners of hers eyes, almost unnoticeable unless one was close enough to actually see them, her eyes were slightly bloodshot, and her usually pristine hair was unkempt in some places, sticking out wildly."Weiss, are you okay?" Though she was annoyed at her, Pyrrha did consider Weiss a friend and was worried about her.

"I'm fine," Weiss snapped. The small girl wrapped her arms around her waist.

"Where's your date?" Pyrrha looked around for anybody that might claim the heiress for themselves, but every guy was already paired up with another woman.

Weiss looked away for a moment, sighed, then looked woefully at Pyrrha. "I don't have a date. Nobody asked me and the guy I asked rejected me."

Pyrrha frowned. "Jaune asked you several times," Pyrrha reminded her cautiously as though Weiss would take her statement as a suggestion to claim him for herself.

Weiss scoffed. "That buffoon doesn't count. Maybe if he spent more time actually not acting like an imbecile instead of wasting my time, I would have given him a moment of thought. He's annoying. Seriously, I don't know what anybody could see in him. I feel bad for you, Pyrrha. He must have asked you out of desperation and you took pity on him. You could have been here with anybody, but you came with the loser."

A sharp crack sounded throughout the ballroom. People turned towards the sound, only to find Weiss Schnee on the ground holding her cheek as Pyrrha Nikos towered above her, shaking in rage. They crowded closer as they waited with baited breath for a cat fight, but not close enough to get caught in the crossfire between the Schnee heiress and the Goddess of Victory.

"How dare you?" Pyrrha seethed. She glanced around, noticing the audience forming around them. She reached down and grabbed Weiss by her arm. Heaving the girl up forcefully, she dragged her away, out towards the balcony. Now alone in the cold night air and away from prying eyes, Pyrrha let go of the heiress. Weiss stumbled a little as Pyrrha threw her forcefully, grabbing the railing of the balcony to steady herself on her heels.

"What is your deal?" Weiss shrieked once she was stable. It was a cold night. Her arms pimpled and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. She crossed her arms as Pyrrha walked next to her and silenced her with a glare. The cold seemed to grow deeper.

"My deal is how you treat Jaune," Pyrrha spit. "I don't know what your problem with him is, but he doesn't deserve what you said." Weiss tried to say something, but Pyrrha continued, saying "He tries as hard as he can. Every night, we're training to the point of exhaustion to be the best huntsmen we can be. Some nights, on our nights off, he comes back late and is barely able to get ready for bed. But maybe you're right. Maybe he is a loser. But he's still better than you."

Weiss finally found her voice. "What!? How could that doofus possibly be better than me?" she demanded, the heat in her voice warming her up. The sound of blood pounding in her ears was all that she could hear.

"He beat you, didn't he? If he's a loser, than what does that make you? He spends every moment he can making himself the best possible team leader. How about you? Every time I see you, you're either playing games or trying to network with the other students here. From where I stand, he's a much harder worker than you."

Weiss' scar burned. "I've spent far more time in my life preparing for the future than he ever has."

"Maybe so, but it's the present and what you do now that matters, not where you come from. Ironic isn't it? The person you hate the most at this school has shown himself to be far more noble than you have acted yourself, the heiress to one of the world's largest companies." Pyrrha knew she was digging herself into a hole at this point, but the words just kept spilling out. A huntress could go far in this world with the right contacts, and what she was doing could be considered the height of social suicide. And yet, she found herself not caring about any of that.

"How dare you? I have been raised from birth to be one of the most lady-like women in high society! Just how could that buffoon even hope to compare to my social graces?"

"By being himself! By caring about others! By not caring about what they can do or where they come from, but about the strength of their character and hearts! The day we met, I could tell that all you cared about me was what I could do for you and how you could exploit that!" Pyrrha was in Weiss' face now, constantly advancing on the backpedaling girl. Weiss guiltily looked away at those words as she bumped up against the railing, unable to retreat any further. "Jaune didn't even know who I was. I just another regular girl to him, another face in the crowd. I thought I would finally have a chance to be normal, but then you told him exactly who I was and what I famous for! I wanted to cry!" Weiss looked up at that.

Hot tears, almost steaming, were rolling down Pyrrha's cheeks. It was a stark contrast to the scowl on her face.

"But he didn't care. He didn't put me on a pedestal like everybody else did. I could be myself with him instead of acting like I did in public." Pyrrha backed up some, replacing the scowl on her face with a gentle smile as she gazed at the shattered moon far off in the distance. "At the initiation test, I sought him out. I saw him falling through the air and I made sure to pin him to that tree. I didn't want anyone else to get to him." Pyrrha looked back Weiss, looking stern as she drove home her point.

"I didn't go tonight with him out of pity. In fact, I asked him. I went with him because I wanted to be with him, because I saw the mark of something amazing in him."

Neither said anything for what felt like hours. Pyrrha wiped away the last of her tears as Weiss could only stand there and absorb everything.

"Hey, is everything ok here?" Jaune asked, breaking the tense silence between the two. He was standing at the balcony door, a cup of punch in both hands. He took his place next to his date and offered a glass to her, receiving a small appreciative smile as thanks.

"Yes. Yes, everything is alright Jaune. Nothing you need to worry about," Pyrrha assured him. She took the cup and wrapped an arm around her date's waist, surprising him slightly. She gave a pointed look to Weiss as Jaune hesitantly put an arm around her shoulder in response. Content with Weiss' scathing expression, she looked back at Jaune. "I'm starting to get tired. Would it be alright with you if I went back to the dorms?"

"Of course. Come on, I'll walk you back," Jaune offered. "I wouldn't want to leave a lady all alone and defenseless." They shared a small smile at the joke. They knew that between the two of them, it would most likely be Pyrrha defending Jaune.

"No, no. It's still early and most of our friends are still here. Stay and enjoy the party." Pyrrha detached from her date, waving goodbye as she disappeared into the crowd. Jaune moved to the railing as he watched the Amazon walk back to the dorm rooms below. A small sigh escaped his lips as he settled his head into the crook of his elbow.

"She's amazing." He hadn't been talking to anybody in particular, so he jumped a little when Weiss moved next to him. They stayed like that together before Jaune got a little uncomfortable and moved away slightly. A series of flashing lights caught his eye in the distance, but he paid them no mind. Teenagers with weapons and what were basically super powers tended to get a little rowdy on big nights like tonight. Teenagers that don't have dates were even more so.

"Jaune?"

"Yeah?"

"Out of curiosity..." Talking to Pyrrha had left a voice with a nagging question in the back of her head. She had the feeling that if she didn't ask now, she wouldn't ever think to do it again. "Do you know who I am?"

The question earned her a sidelong look from Jaune. "You're Weiss?" he replied, unsure of how he should reply to what seemed like an obvious question.

Weiss sighed and turned to look at him. "Right, but do you know my background?"Weiss watched Jaune took a thinking pose as he seriously seemed to think about what he knew of her.

"Well, you're a member of team RWBY... ummm... You use dust... ummm... Ruby said you wanted bunk beds, so you probably have a brother... or a sister!" Jaune quickly added at Weiss' dumbstruck look, thinking he had offended her somehow.

She couldn't believe it. This guy really didn't know who she was. "Were you raised under a rock?" she asked softly. There was no way he couldn't know.

"Hey, that hurts."

"I'm Weiss Schnee. Of the Schnee Dust Company. Idiot." She watched as Jaune did a double take. "Did you really think it was a coincidence that I happened to have the same last name as a major corporation that produces the same material I use in combat?"

Jaune scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. With reddened cheeks, he said, "Well, in my home town, there were a lot of people who had the name Schnee. A lot of people who didn't have a last name just ended up making up their own. More than a few had the name Schnee." Weiss was familiar with the practice. Those who had lost everything in Grimm attacks would take new names. Some abused it, taking names that were associated with respect, such as the age old Arc or the more recent Schnee. There were more than a few law suits levied against her family because of that. It was honestly a little surprising how many Faunus took their name, if not shaming.

Jaune let out a small chuckle. "You wouldn't believe how many people had my family name."

Weiss pushed that to the side for the moment. The idea that this... this... she didn't know what to call him anymore... that Jaune was actually really an Arc was a little too much for her to handle at the moment. Instead, she just focused on something more important. "What made you ask me out?"

A grimace flashed across his face, gone as quick as it came. "You were pretty and you looked lonely." Jaune looked back out towards the campus, trying to see if he could still see Pyrrha. A small red figure was visible for only a moment before it turned around a corner, disappearing from view. He held his gaze for a few seconds before turning it skyward. The moon was pretty tonight.

A delicate eyebrow raised. "I was with Pyrrha." Her only answer was a shrug. The night was cold again and the bright night sky seemed like it would swallow her up whole as she stood there regarding the blond knight.

Jaune finished his cup of punch and stopped leaning against the railing. "It's cold out here tonight. I think I'm gonna go back inside." She nodded once and watched him walk back to the doors. Neptune ran into him and was about to walk past before the 'coolest guy in Beacon' noticed her standing alone. A nervous sweat broke on his tan forehead and he quickly swung an arm around the blonde's shoulder, leading him quickly away back downstairs.

It was cold outside. For a moment, she thought her tears would turn to ice.

* * *

><p>The sounds of flesh striking flesh over and over again were stifled in the small grey room. A bang sounded out as Shirou's head was slammed onto the table in front of him. He would have fought back, but as it was, his hands and legs were bound to the folding chair he was sitting in. He just gritted his teeth, grunting with every punch.<p>

"Talk! Who sent you?" a voice demanded. When he had woken up, there was a man in white suit sitting across the table from him. He had been asked some questions and he had answered as truthfully as his deal with Ozpin would allow. However, the more he said, the more upset the man got until he flew into a fit of rage.

"I told you, I work for Beacon. I'm a custodian here." A gloved fist buried itself into his cheek, rocking him hard enough to tip over along with the chair. His vision swam for the second time that night, the blood pounding in his head as he fought to stay conscious. He heard squeak of the man's boots as he knelt down beside Shirou and felt a hand painfully pull against the back of his head.

"My men have been checking everything you say, and every single bit of it sends up red flags. You're lying to me," the man hissed into Shirou's ear. Suddenly, the only door to the room flew open, banging against the wall. Shirou couldn't see who it was from where he lay, but he could hear several people shouting for somebody to stop.

"James!" a familiar voice cried out. All the voices died down. A pause and then a long suffering sigh. "That's enough."

The man looked towards the door, and then stood up. All Shirou could see where the leather boots the man wore. Idly, he noted a spot of blood on the toe. The back of his head itched as he looked at it. "Oz. We caught this kid in the terminal room at the CCT. He attacked several of my men and put many of them in critical condition. We need to find out who sent him."

"James, I know this man. I can vouch for him. I was the one who sent him there in the first place."

"Maybe you think that, but I think it's far more likely he planned to get here since he was hired. I know his kind. They're crafty and they work in the shadows, pulling at strings we don't even know we have to get what they want." A bitter note was present there. It reminded Shirou of sucking lemons.

"General, do you really think that I am so weak-minded that I would allow myself to be manipulated easily?" A tone of aggravation. A challenge.

"What? No. Oz, you know I don't think that about you. I just think it's far more likely that-" Defensive.

A new voice. "Umm sir? We reviewed the security footage, and this guy wasn't responsible."

A pause. "You're sure?" the boots asked.

"With a body like hers, it'd be kinda hard... to... call..." the voice petered off. "Right. Umm, anyway, yes. In fact, this guy actually may have saved Frank's life."

Silence. The boots danced a little in place. "I see. Thank you," they said stiffly. "Oz, listen-"

"General, do you mind giving us a moment?" the familiar voice asked. Though it was phrased as a request, even Shirou could recognize it for what it was.

"... Sure." The boots stepped over him and Shirou heard the door close. Shirou felt something at his back and struggled slightly.

"Shirou, relax. It's me, Ozpin. I'm just getting you out of these restraints." Shirou relaxed at that, and felt the handcuffs at his wrists and ankles disappear. A pair of hands grabbed him by the shoulders and gently moved him into a sitting position. Shirou shook his head, a sense of vertigo and nausea overwhelming him and splitting his vision in two.

Ozpin looked at Shirou's face, the dark purple bruises slowly fading out of existence. Slowly, he stood Shirou up and walked him over to the other chair. He caught Shirou as he staggered, waiting until he was sure the redhead had steadied himself again. Ozpin sat Shirou down in the chair and righted the chair across the table. "Are you okay, Shirou? I'm afraid James was never... well he was always very enthusiastic about getting results." He didn't like disparaging one of his oldest friends, even if he tended to be incredibly violent in times of crises.

Shirou groaned, clutching his head. "I've been through worse. I'll be fine soon enough." Ozpin felt a massive pang of guilt in his heart. Still, there were questions that needed answering.

"Shirou, what happened tonight?" he questioned.

"I followed the route that we set up, making sure that people saw me like always. I got to the CCT building and I started cleaning with a guard watching me." Shirou's eyes shot open and his head snapped up. "Frank! Is Frank alright?"

The tone of worry and alarm warmed Ozpin's heart a little. It was always so refreshing to hear people care about others, even if they were a complete stranger. "Yes, Shirou. Private Carmody will make a complete recovery. The only injuries he suffered were aura depletion and a mild concussion." He watched as Shirou sighed in relief. Ozpin's nose wrinkled a little and his brow furrowed at the smell of blood growing stronger with that sigh. "Please, what else happened."

Shirou nodded and continued. "She showed up. A woman in black and carmine eyes. Long black hair. Used two short swords that combined into a bow that shot off incendiary arrows. It was weird. She didn't have them anywhere on her person, but all of a sudden they were there."

A silver eyebrow rose. "It sounds like a dust user. Some fighters embed dust into their clothing. But just to be sure, are you sure she wasn't just hiding them somewhere on her person?" Any small details they could get on this assailant could make a world of difference. It would allow them to prepare for this woman who had defeated an entire platoon of guards in straightforward combat.

Shirou blushed slightly and averted his gaze. "No. She definitely wouldn't have been able to hide those easily." Ozpin allowed a small grin on his face. He forgot that Shirou was still just barely an adult. The grin fell away at that thought. Shirou was still just a teenager. He let his gaze wonder on the man's figure, taking note of how Shirou's crumpled nose was gradually pulling itself into its proper shape. "Oh!" Ozpin's gaze snapped back to Shirou's. "Her clothes did glow when she attacked. And she used something like a flash bomb from my-" Shirou caught himself, his eyes sliding over to the mirror on the wall. "From my home. I also made sure to... end the fight as quickly as possible."

Ozpin nodded. Shirou didn't reveal much to her. "It indeed sounds like a dust user. She probably used a variation of light dust. Did she use a phial for that attack?"

Shirou nodded. "After that flash bomb, I couldn't see anything and I assume that she escaped. I was going to check on Frank, but somebody else attacked me." Shirou rubbed his brow. "It's hard to remember what else happened after that. I was still disoriented from the flash bomb. The next thing I remember is waking up in here, handcuffed to a chair."

"Do you think you could recognize her again? If we gave you a series of photos, do you think you could pick her out?" The Vale Police Department had a series of photo id books on all the criminals they'd apprehended, including sketching of suspects that they had yet to catch.

Shirou thought for a moment before he nodded. "She had on a half-mask, which would make it easier to identify her. However, I can't guarantee a positive match."

"I see. Thank you, Shirou. I'm sorry about all that... transpired tonight. Why don't you take the next couple days off? Go to Vale and see the sights." Ozpin felt terrible. His duties as headmaster had him busy chaperoning the dance while this interrogation went on. The moment he found out, he had rushed down here as soon as possible, only to find James savagely beating him. He felt that Shirou should just enjoy the next couple days at his leisure.

In the meantime, he was going to talk to his old friend.

Shirou looked slightly taken aback. Looking down in shame, he admitted, "I don't have the funds at the moment. I saw some of the prices for tours and it's a little beyond what I'm comfortable spending."

Ozpin made a mental note to raise Shirou's salary the moment he got back to his office. "Then don't think of it as a vacation. Think of it as an opportunity to learn more about how to see how other businesses' custodial staffs operate. I'm more than confident that the school would be willing to reimburse you for that as a business expense. Even if it doesn't, I will." A pleasant smile finally settled on his face as Shirou's mouth dropped open.

Every one of Shirou's Japanese sensibilities told him to decline. "But... You... I couldn't possibly-"

Ozpin stopped him cold with that genial tone of his. "Shiro. For me. Tomorrow, after you finish work, go out to Vale and come back fully rested on Sunday. I'll have a credit card ready for your use. While there is technically no limit here, do please try to be sensible with your spending."

Shirou's mouth opened and closed for several seconds before letting out a massive sigh of exasperation. "Why?" Why are you doing this for me? Why are you being so generous? Why are you willing to pay for such a leisurely thing when it could be better spent on something else?

"Because I feel like you might like to see what this world has to offer." Because Shirou deserved better. Because Shirou was due this and much more. Because Shirou might never get the chance to do it again. Because Ozpin felt that war was coming.

Both perfectly understood what the other meant. Nothing else needed to be said that night.

* * *

><p><strong>Author Notes:<strong>

**1. Sometimes, when you see something that is unusual or out of place or maybe even just flat wrong in one of my stories, it is not an accident. It is intentional. I pick and choose my words carefully when I write this story, when I write any story. I have a huge document several tens of pages long that has tons of details that I want to get across to the reader. This story is, for a large part of it anyways, already finished. In my head that is. If something looks out of place, good job, you caught some subtlety.**

**2. I do actually use the wikias for both RWBY and Fate/Stay Night, although the latter's goes by the name Type-Moon because FSN is actually a small part of that world. I cross-reference from other sources to double check what I know and I'll look for information if I'm not sure of something.**

_**Like the fact that Shirou is actually 167 centimeters tall, which is roughly 5'4. Yes, Archer is taller by about seven or eight inches at 187 cm.**_

**What can I say other than that Shirou has some growing to do. Sometimes, these wikias are woefully incomplete. The RWBY wikia is created and managed by fans who don't have the intrinsic knowledge that the people at RT do and have to work with the content supplied. For instance, somehow, our fan base has the idea that the proper job title is Hunters, but they are never referred to as such in the show. It's always Huntsmen.**

**3. Nobody's really nitpicked about this, but I only put down Author's Notes when I feel like I need to. People kept complaining about Shirou's height due to him being much taller in the show. Guess what. What they're doing is called artistic license. I do that too sometimes, like with how Ozpin saw Shirou's memories. It makes the story more interesting. The illustrators for the show did that too with how tall they made Shirou, and it works. My point is that I don't feel like I always have to explain every detail, but if people audibly express enough confusion or I feel like I have to defend my stance, you'll see Author's Notes.**

**4. I do not bureaucratic red tape. These past couple of weeks have just been a total mess of fines and fees and strongly worded messages and sleep deprivation. That's literally the only reason why this chapter was so delayed. **

**Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed this chapter. I'm going to go sleep now.**


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